


Mobius

by Leopah



Category: Steins;Gate, ノラガミ | Noragami (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Steins;Gate Fusion, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Temporary Character Death, you don't need to know anything about Steins;Gate tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 51,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26228524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leopah/pseuds/Leopah
Summary: A girl who’s supposed to be dead but isn’t, a boy who isn’t supposed to die but does, and a young man who’s defied death countless times make an unlikely trio that accidentally develops a time machine. As they struggle to control their invention, they begin to realize the consequences of messing with time. A Steins;Gate AU.
Relationships: Iki Hiyori & Yato & Yukine, Iki Hiyori/Yato, Yato & Yukine
Comments: 23
Kudos: 40





	1. Divergence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally here! The Noragami/Steins;Gate AU I’ve wanted to write for years. Naturally this fic, while taking plenty of liberties, still follows the overall plot of Steins;Gate. If you haven’t yet watched it, I cannot recommend it enough. It’s one of my all-time favorite series--along with Noragami!
> 
> If you haven’t watched Steins;Gate and don’t plan to before reading, here are a list of content warnings that apply to more or less the whole fic.  
> -Body horror  
> -Violence (not graphically described)  
> -Death (as noted in the tags, this is a time travel fic, so bear that in mind)

**Part 1: Divergence**

The flash drive tucked safely inside his pocket bounced against his chest as he vaulted a low concrete barrier and kept running for the exit. He couldn’t get caught.

Tears still stung his eyes. It was all so fresh. The memory of her smile, followed by a headline decades in the past. The blank red stamp over the case file: _SUBJECT FAILURE. ERROR: MISMATCH._

Now he was running; to where, he didn’t know. The only thing in his mind was escape. Perhaps later he would figure out how to put a stop to this madness.

The rain poured down relentlessly, but he knew this compound like the back of his hand. A right turn here, avoid splashing in the puddle there, and now he was almost to the gate.

It crossed his mind that he hadn’t encountered many Rounders, but there was no time to think about that when freedom beckoned.

He didn’t slow his steps until he’d purchased a ticket on the next bus to Tokyo and hunkered down in his seat, shoving his duffel bag into the compartment overhead. He was muddy and soaked from the rain, but no one disturbed him.

Maybe they, too, could see the insanity lurking just beneath the surface.

He yanked his jacket hood over his face and fell into a troubled sleep, continually jolted awake by nightmares of passengers recognizing him, coming to take him back, to arrest him.

That red stamp still burned into his eyelids.

_SUBJECT FAILURE. ERROR: MISMATCH._

_MISMATCH._

_MISMATCH._

_MISMATCH._

**[8/4/18 11:46:23]**

“Hey, you’re gonna be late.”

Yato jolted up from his work, smacking his head on a low shelf. “Ow. What time is it?”

Yukine, his young assistant and part-time hostage, glanced at his phone. “11:46. Didn’t you say you wanted to leave by 11:45 at the very latest?”

Yato rubbed at the bump on his head. “Yeah, I did.” He glanced down at himself. “I’m ready to go...I guess.”

Yukine snorted, dressed to the nines as usual. Meanwhile, Yato had a couple of grease stains on his shirt, so he zipped a tracksuit top over them.

“There. Good as new.”

“I think you should have kept the stains.”

Yato set the partially dismantled microwave on the desk next to the computer. He felt that he was close to a big breakthrough, but this lecture had seemed promising when he’d signed up.

“Sure you don’t want to come with?” he asked Yukine as he slipped his shoes on. “There were plenty of seats last I checked.”

“No thanks, it’s not my idea of a good time,” Yukine said. “Also, don’t forget what happened last time.”

Yato winced. “I won’t get security involved. Promise.”

“Cool, but I’m still not coming. I need to eat and stuff.” Yukine waved him off, though his video game seemed to be far more engrossing.

The August sun blazed overhead. The streets were noisy with cicadas and the endless crowds, as well as the buzz of air conditioning units stacked three deep. Yato threaded his way through the excited tourists and otaku looking for respite inside junk anime shops or maid cafes. Just another summer day in Akihabara.

Yato was headed to, of all things, the radio tower. The University of Tokyo Faculty of Science was hosting a guest lecture there despite it being summer break, and he hadn’t had anything better to do when he signed up.

He was beginning to regret the tracksuit in this heat; the pavement shimmered underfoot. But was he willing to take it off and expose his dirty shirt to everyone? Last time the discount clothing store had run a T-shirt deal, he’d opted to instead spend his money on more “junk,” as Yukine called it. So now he only had the one shirt, and it was covered in grime from his experiments.

He arrived at the tower’s entrance, an unlikely place for a time travel lecture as any. Though the street outside was busy, the moment he stepped indoors, the sounds of passing traffic faded out. The lobby was cool and fairly empty, with only a scribbled sign pointing him in the direction of the lecture he was attending.

“ _Time Travel Theory, 7F, Room 17. Snacks provided!_ ” it said.

Yato walked up the stairs, wishing there was an elevator. After pausing to catch his breath, he headed down a deserted hallway until he stood outside 17. Voices came from inside, so he slid the door open.

“Yes, the lecture’s already started,” a bossy-sounding woman’s voice said from inside. “If that’s what you’re here for.”

“I am.” Yato stepped inside and sat at an empty desk. _Not much of a lecture hall at all_ , he thought. This place barely qualified as a classroom, but then there were only a dozen or so attendees, most of whom looked bored.

Meanwhile, Yato deigned to lean back in his chair and regard the woman lecturing. He’d heard of Bishamon’s research in the field of molecular science, but he hadn’t known she was into time travel. Despite the reputation she was pretty good-looking, with long, silver-blonde hair and a sizable bust.

Bishamon went on and on for a few minutes before something clicked in Yato’s head and he sat up with a start, flipping through the lecture notes provided to him.

“Hold on, hold on!” he said, leaping to his feet. Everyone swiveled to look at him.

Bishamon’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have a question?”

“No, I don’t. I have an objection! The many-worlds interpretation? Kerr black holes? These are all just taken directly from John Titor’s Y2K fearmongering!” Yato pointed an accusing finger at her. “In other words, a joke that’s been around for more than two decades. Don’t you have anything original in here?”

She crossed her arms. “As I was just explaining, I used Titor’s posts to form a base for the theory presented in this lecture, which was developed in tandem with some colleagues. If you would please sit down so we can get back to it—”

“I will not! How stupid do you think I am?”

“Don’t make me call security.” Her hand moved to her pocket.

The door slid open, and they both jumped. A girl was standing in the hall, her expression implying she realized she had just walked into an argument. Yato blinked at her several times, taking in the long brown hair clipped behind an ear as well as soft eyes of the same shade.

“Oh, sorry...please excuse me.” She lowered her head, and was on the verge of closing the door again when her eyes met Yato’s and widened.

“You. What were you talking about back there?”

Yato blinked. “You mean the John Titor thing? It’s old news, really more of a meme—”

“No, I meant earlier.”

She was indeed staring at him as though he were a familiar face. Yato thought he would definitely remember meeting someone as pretty, and cryptic, as her. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

“Iki Hiyori, neuroscientist. I was hoping to speak with Bishamon before her lecture, but I suppose I can wait until after.” She stepped back out.

Yato scrambled to follow. “Hey, wait a second!”

He caught up with her a few paces out into the hall, ungracefully slamming the door shut behind him. “What was that all about?”

“What was _what_ all about?” Iki Hiyori fired back. “You’re the one who looked like you had something very important to tell me. So go on, spill.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _You_ tell me what _you_ meant by ‘earlier.’”

“We ran into each other outside. You looked like you wanted to say something, then the crowd separated us. You don’t remember?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The neuroscientist straightened up. “Oh. Well then, I’m sorry. I must have mistaken you for someone else. If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to.” She gave him a short bow and headed downstairs.

Yato rested his back against the wall, deciding against going back in. What was the point if this particle physicist was just going to make time travel theories based on outdated hypotheses? He’d thought it might be something worthwhile, but no. It seemed there were very few reliable sources on time travel. He was wishing he had followed Yukine’s lead and not gone to the dumb thing in the first place.

He stood there for a few minutes, thoughts turning back to Iki Hiyori. Had he really run into her on the street? It seemed unlikely. He’d remember a face like hers.

The name was familiar, though...He recalled that Yukine had sent him an article on Hiyori a few weeks back, though it hadn’t included a picture so Yato hadn’t seen what a cutie she was. The article had simply mentioned her achievement as a Tokyo native, getting a research paper published in an American science journal at only 18 years old.

“See, Yato? This is what you could be if you paid more attention in class,” Yukine had said mockingly.

Yato thought of texting Yukine that he’d just run into the author in question, wondering if that would make him jealous for deciding not to come to the lecture.

A scream echoed up the stairwell, a sound of utter pain that shattered the stillness and seemed to silence everything else. Yato jumped out of his reverie, then started going downstairs. It sounded like it was coming from the street outside.

At the same time, his phone buzzed with an incoming email. He checked it as he jogged, but it was just some spam message with a blank video attached.

Yato stepped back out into the sweltering heat and immediately pulled up his sleeves, squinting in the blinding sun. Glancing around, he spotted a commotion on the sidewalk just to his right.

“Did you see it happen?”

“It was all so fast—”

“Is anyone here a doctor?”

“That poor girl—”

Yato’s heart pounded in his ears. There were a thousand girls walking around right now, there was no way….

He elbowed his way to the front of the crowd and felt his knees going weak at the grisly sight before him.

Iki Hiyori, the girl who thought she knew him, was lying face up on the sidewalk, looking like she could be asleep if not for the blood pooling on the concrete underneath.

Yato heard sirens wailing in the distance; his feet were stumbling back—across the sidewalk, away from the crowd, away from the girl whose death he felt responsible for.

Not feeling like his hand belonged to his body anymore, he pulled out his phone and composed a text to Yukine.

_I think...Iki Hiyori...is dead._

His finger hesitated over the send button. A cold feeling of dread had wormed its way down his back despite the blistering heat. Why did he have such a bad feeling about one message?

The moment passed, he hit the button, and felt the world he knew slip away from him in the blink of an eye.

**_0.571024_ **

“Hey. Hey! Earth to Yato!”

Yato blinked. His surroundings reformed. Yukine was by his side, snapping his fingers at him.

“You listening, old man?”

He turned, his whole body feeling stiff. “What…”

“You look like you’re about to throw up. Are you okay?”

Yato glanced around, but the street was crowded in typical Akiba fashion. Nothing out of place, and certainly no dead bodies. He swayed on his feet, then dashed to a low concrete barrier on the other side of the crosswalk. He leaned over and heaved into the bushes.

“Someone...died….”

He definitely hadn’t imagined it—he had seen that girl, Iki Hiyori, clear as day and dead, dead, dead.

“Yato, what the hell?” Yukine’s voice broke into his thoughts. “Did you say someone _died?_ ”

Yato coughed and pulled himself up. “Yukine. Run me through the last couple minutes. What were we doing?”

Yukine frowned. “We went to that time travel lecture. But it was boring, so we left. We were just going to Yodobashi to look at graphics cards for my computer. Don’t tell me you forgot…?”

Yato shook his head. “I don’t—I don’t remember that. You didn’t go to the lecture.”

Yukine squinted. “I did. I didn’t want to, but I agreed in the end. What’s gotten into you, Yato?”

Panic was clawing its way up his chest now. “I’ll tell you later.” He spun around, back toward the radio tower.

There, far ahead. A flash of brown hair. A high-pitched, somewhat irritating voice.

_It can’t…_

Yato elbowed through the crowd toward her. She was here—very much alive.

“E-excuse me! Excuse me, miss?”

She didn’t hear him.

“Iki-san? Iki Hiyori?”

Hiyori was standing by the radio tower entrance, reading something on her phone.

A car veered up onto the curb. Onlookers leaped out of the way. She did not.

Yato crashed into her, knocking them both to the ground. The car swerved around just where they had been standing, then reversed and sped back off into the street. People around were staring, but quickly resumed ignoring the two once they realized neither of them were injured.

Yato’s tackle had finally gotten Hiyori’s attention, and she looked up at him, rubbing her hands where they’d slammed into the ground.

“Thanks.” She hit a sore spot and winced.

“You’re...Iki Hiyori, right?”

At that moment, Yukine finally shoved his way through the crowd and joined them at the curb. “Yato, you idiot! Don’t go jumping in front of a moving car!” Still grumbling, he helped both Yato and the girl up.

She looked between them. “I am Iki Hiyori. Why do you want to know?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have just been at a lecture on time travel, would you?”

Iki Hiyori frowned. “No. As a matter of fact...I was supposed to meet the lecturer, but I was running late. What's going on?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Yato snapped. “Come with me.”

“What—Who are you?” She shot Yukine a pleading glance, and he shrugged.

“I’m not sure what’s gotten into him either. Yato, can you _please_ tell me what’s gotten you so freaked out?”

Yato’s eyes were darting around, looking for anything, or anyone, suspicious. But everyone else just looked like they were enjoying a normal day in Akihabara.

He drew in a deep breath, then turned to face Iki Hiyori once more. She flinched back, looking nervous. But there was a steeliness to her expression as well.

“Iki-san. Hiyori. I need you to come with me right away. I have reason to believe you might be in danger. I don’t think that car was there accidentally.”

“ _What?_ ” She swallowed and shrank away. “Who’s after me?”

“I don’t know, but I want to try and help you.”

Hiyori glanced back at Yukine, who seemed just as nonplussed as she was.

“I think you should come with us just to be sure,” he said. “He’s paranoid as shit, but he’s a nice guy. I think.”

Hiyori fixed her eyes on Yato’s. “...I’ll come. But I warn you, I have pepper spray in my pocket and I _will_ use it. Maybe even on you.”

* * *

He awoke at last to a gloomy gray morning as the bus pulled into Shinjuku Station. He looked around the cityfolk with unease, but no one spared him more than a glance.

He’d never been to Tokyo except one time many years ago, so he wasn’t sure where to go. He briefly debated taking an airport shuttle and hopping on a plane to Okinawa, or even another country, but logic overruled that. He only had enough money to go one way, and none to pay for food or lodging once he got there. Besides, there was hardly any point when he’d be found and hauled back soon anyway.

After consulting a map of the terminal, he headed down an escalator to the subway. With its maze of manga cafes, electronics shops, and cheap(ish) apartments, Akihabara seemed as good a place to hide out as any.

* * *

Despite Yato imagining the flash of a concealed gun on every other passerby, they made it back to his apartment unscathed. He scrambled to unlock the front door, then ushered Hiyori and Yukine up the stairs before him. Once he’d finished double-locking and deadbolting the door he joined them up top, where Hiyori was looking around the one-room apartment with uncertainty.

Since they hadn’t been expecting guests, it was a mess. Sheets were crumpled atop the only sofa, the coffee table was strewn with mugs and scratch paper, the partially dismantled and sparking microwave still sat next to the idling computer, and small metal knickknacks littered the floor—the _junk_ that irritated Yukine so much.

Yukine was kneeling in the center of the apartment, picking up stray scraps and tossing them into a cardboard box he’d retrieved from the depths of the room.

“Hey, hey, careful where you throw those! There might be an invention hidden in there!” Yato said, yanking off his tracksuit top and tying it around his waist. He’d completely sweated through the jacket from the panic of the last few minutes plus his rush back home, so it on top of those grease stains from earlier left him not a pleasant sight to see. He didn’t even have so much as an undershirt left to spare, though. Hiyori was just going to have to deal with him being dirty and a bit stinky.

She wrinkled her nose, taking it all in. To her credit, though, she didn’t comment on anything.

Yato pulled the bedding off the couch and motioned to it. “Would you like a seat?”

Hiyori eyed the slightly stained cushions—Yato had found it out on the sidewalk one day, looking perfectly fine except for a few holes in the upholstery and a general grubbiness to it. He’d cleaned it as best he could, but some stains were best left unsaid.

“I’d prefer to stand,” she said. “I just got back from America a couple days ago, so with so much travel I’ve been spending quite a lot of time sitting down.”

“America? What were you doing there?” Yukine asked, having moved on from throwing scraps into the box to clearing the coffee table.

“I’ve been studying abroad there for a couple of years, but I came back here for summer break and to take care of some...things.”

Yato glanced up from shoving the bedding into a cabinet. “What things?”

“Family business. It’s personal.” Hiyori stared him down. “So, you tell me. Why am I in danger?”

Yato blew some hair out of his face and sat in his usual place on the couch. Yukine, having finished cleaning what he could, took the armchair.

“This is going to sound pretty crazy,” he said, “but I think we may have invented time travel.”

Blank stares from both of them.

“Did you hit your head or something when you fell down?” Yukine asked.

Yato shrugged. The lack of consistency between his memories and everyone else’s was jarring, not to mention the lack of evidence supporting his claims. “That I can’t say. But I know what I saw, and it doesn’t match what you did.”

Hiyori stared down at her hands, fingers shaking. She closed them into fists and looked up. “Explain.”

“I started to send Yukine a text...one about you, actually.” He hesitated, not sure how to address the context, then continued, stumbling over his words. “We ran into each other, and I’d read a bit about you in the local news the other week, so I thought I’d tell Yukine about the encounter. The next thing I knew Yukine was beside me, claiming things I didn’t remember.”

“Hold on,” Hiyori said. “You’re making no sense. How does any of this relate to time travel? Or me, for that matter?”

Yato groaned. “Hold on.” He fussed around on the computer desk for a while, opening drawers and digging through the upper shelves. “Yukine, where’s the whiteboard?”

“I think you just had it the other day, but I don’t know where you threw it,” said Yukine.

Yato squatted down and peered under the desk. There—a white edge peeking out. He crawled all the way under and retrieved it, then stood up without knocking his head against the desk. A first.

Fishing out a not-quite-dead marker from his pants pocket, he started drawing on the board. Three parallel lines stretched from one end to the other, named with the Greek characters ɑ, β, and ɣ. He circled the former.

“So, time travel. I’ll try to make this quick,” Yato said, pushing up an imaginary pair of glasses. Yukine, having heard this spiel before, grabbed a gaming magazine off the cabinet and flipped through it, leg swung over the edge of his seat.

Yato looked back over at Hiyori. She had skepticism written all over her face, but she was paying attention. “There are an infinite number of what we call _world lines_ flowing like rivers in parallel. Not the straight line you’re thinking of. Now, normally these rivers don’t intersect. But if we start messing with the natural flow of time, they will.” Using a sleeve, Yato erased a section of ɑ, then redrew it slightly branching out from the others and labeled it ɑ¹.

“When we change the past, the world line changes to prevent a paradox and continues on as before. We call this change _divergence_. However, small choices only result in divergence of about 0.000001 percent. Say I went back in time to this morning and lived my day exactly the same, except I ate a bagel instead of cereal for breakfast. It’d be an imperceptible shift in the world line. Do you follow me so far?”

Hiyori nodded, so he went on.

“Meanwhile, a major divergence would occur when something like a war or famine is averted through the use of time travel.” He drew an arrow from ɑ¹ to β.

“Now we’d be on this beta world line, having moved from alpha. But normally, we have no way of knowing which one we’re on. You’d need the eyes of a god to discern the changes. When everything jumps to another, your memories are overwritten with the events of the _new_ world line to stay consistent...At least, that’s what’s always been theorized.” 

He tapped his temple with the marker. “But for some reason, my memories of today have been inconsistent with Yukine’s ever since I sent that message.” 

He pointed his marker at the desk, where the broken-looking microwave and hand-me-down computer sat rather unimpressively. “That’s the key, I think. The microwave is actually called the Coo Phone (Name TBA)—”

Hiyori snorted. Yato paused to shoot her a glare.

“Yes, sorry. It’s very interesting. Continue.”

“Iki-san, after I ran into you, I decided to send Yukine a text about it. I have a paranoid streak—”

It was Yukine’s turn to snort, and his turn to be on the receiving end of a glare. He responded by lifting the magazine to cover his face, which Yato took as a sign to continue.

“I’m a bit paranoid, so all my communications are routed through the computer here, where Yukine set up a software to scramble my location. The computer was also hooked up to the microwave, as I had been running some tests trying to link the two together.”

Yukine was frowning. “A text about Iki...I remember that now. I got two texts about her last week! I had no idea what you were talking about. I asked you about it, and you said you didn’t know anything either.”

Yato sat upright. “Wait, you got them? Can you show me?”

“Dude, no, I thought your phone screwed up so I deleted them.”

Yato sank back, deflated. “But...you got them last week, so that means they jumped back in time. Right?”

“We have nothing to prove that, though,” Hiyori persisted. “Like Yukine said, maybe your phone screwed up.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Maybe...But I don’t think so.” He’d seen Hiyori dead, he was sure of it.

Hiyori started pacing. “My research has nothing to do with time travel. I’m a neuroscientist studying memory. So where do I come in?”

Yato let out a long breath. She would only get as much of the story as Yukine had—knowledge was power, and after the events of today, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were still looking for him after all. It was time to see how well he’d hidden himself.

“Iki-san, I believe the people after you are from an organization I call Yomi.”

“The mythological Underworld,” she mused. “But why me?”

“That, I cannot tell you for sure. But Yomi, operating as a shadow within CERN, is researching time travel for the purposes of bending the fabric of reality to their whim. They will achieve their goal at any cost, including murder. You are either useful to them, or you are a target. There is no in between. My guess is that they consider you a direct threat.” Again he thought of her dead body and shivered.

Hiyori was silent for a long while, shifting from foot to foot on the creaky wooden floor. “How do you know so much about Yomi?”

Yato had been expecting this question, though that didn’t make it any easier to answer. “I used to work for them. A couple years ago, I left. I’ve been hiding ever since.”

Hiyori looked frightened, while Yukine glared at nothing. He had heard that story before, so hearing it again wasn’t improving his mood.

“I haven’t seen or heard anything suspicious in a while, so I thought I had evaded them. But I think we might’ve gotten their attention.”

He felt certain that Yomi was coming. It might take them a while to track down his exact location, but they had the means to do so. After that, well...

Yato could hear that sinister voice in the back of his mind. He’d tried so hard to ignore it, but some experiences were unforgettable.

The clock was ticking.

He shivered again and straightened up, facing his hostage and the neuroscientist who’d somehow gotten dragged in.

“I think we can beat them at their own game. If we can figure out what I did here and fine-tune it, we will have an actual time machine in our hands. Then we can sell ours to a benign research institution and break Yomi’s time machine monopoly before it ever happens.”

Hiyori looked unnerved rather than empowered by his bold statement. “I should just leave. This is crazy! And you should destroy your research and run too!”

Yato shook his head. “I’m sorry, Iki-san, but you can’t leave. You already know too much. Not just about the people chasing you, but about me. Even if we destroyed the research, they’d hunt us down to the ends of the earth and torture it back out of us. You can’t hide. Not forever. Not from them.”

She bit her lip. Perhaps he’d laid it on a bit thick, but it wasn’t his fault—if Yomi really was after her, he had no doubts they would stop at nothing to see her dead.

“Wanna help save the world?” he asked, pulling a grin from nowhere. It was hard to smile when he had gazed upon her dead body hardly thirty minutes ago and all but received confirmation that his past was catching up to him, but the mood in the apartment was so gloomy it was becoming unbearable.

“I’m in,” said Yukine without any hesitation. “Are you?”

Iki Hiyori gazed between both of them for a long moment, then nodded. “I am. Let’s do this.”

* * *

It hadn’t taken him long to hole up in the dingiest apartment in all of Akiba. The electricity flickered at inopportune moments, water came out of the tap orange with rusty residue, and cockroaches skittered across the floor, but it was home, and it was his.

He wasted no time getting a part-time job at the mom-and-pop shop below and spending his spare moments learning to repair the apartment himself. The work was hard, but it at least took his mind off the shadow looming over him.

But as time passed, no masked men showed up to whisk him away. He allowed himself the faintest bit of hope that his father hadn’t managed to track him down after all.

Each day he strayed farther from his little home. He grew to know Akihabara very well, all its nooks and crannies and the best place to get ramen and where the cheapest laundromat was (never mind that said laundromat was covered in stickers of swimsuit-clad moe girls).

He allowed himself a moment to breathe and take in the cloudless sky. Spring was coming, and he could already feel the warmer air. Maybe he’d enroll in some university classes. The deadline was coming up, but there should be a couple left with room. The weeks stretched into months, and before he knew it two years had gone by.

* * *

They threw themselves into unraveling the mysteries of the time machine that Yato had more or less accidentally assembled from a microwave. Instead of leaving it for a junk heap, he’d been trying to cannibalize the microwave’s unique functions into the computer. According to a certain stash of stolen research, a standard kitchen microwave was essentially a smaller-scale particle collider. And somehow, everything had coincided in just the right way to let Yato send one text message back in time. Now they had to figure out exactly how everything was working together.

The three of them figured out some components with repeated testing wherein Hiyori kept sending out meaningless texts, Yukine kept a close eye on the Coo Phone (Name TBA)’s statistics and adjusted settings as needed, and Yato observed the outcome.

By setting the timer they could control how far the texts went; one second equaled one hour in the past. They could only send 36 bytes of data through, which equated to 36 characters. Messages over 12 bytes would be broken up into multiple, and anything containing more than 36 characters was lost. They ruled this was most likely due to the Coo Phone (Name TBA) being a rather small microwave rather than a full-scale collider like the LHC.

Electrical discharge that looked like lightning ricocheted around the room when they started the countdown and opened the door, and the whole building trembled as if in an earthquake.

But for all their success with these bizarre functions there was no more of the queasy sensation Yato had felt earlier. The more tests they performed to troubleshoot, the more they confirmed that their dinky little microwave was in fact sending messages back in time. Still, they had not replicated Yato’s message that had, inexplicably, changed the world line from one where Iki Hiyori was dead to one where she was alive.

After much debate, they settled on calling their time-traveling messages D-Mail, short for DeLorean Mail. Yukine had suggested the name, and seeing as Yato’s only suggestions were either patently absurd or references to obscure anime, Hiyori sided with Yukine and he was outvoted. The Coo Phone (Name TBA), however, remained with the (Name TBA) tag.

* * *

When it became time for class signups, Yato’s first choice was a basic computer science course. The flash drive still sat in his pocket, weighing it down like a piece of lead. He’d tried many times to decrypt the information inside, but his father was a paranoid man, even more paranoid than Yato himself—he’d need to know exactly what he was doing to crack the precious intel without losing it to some hidden virus.

Yato heaved a frustrated sigh at the beginner label on the class. It would take him some time to get to the advanced classes, but there was no way he could trust anyone else with the fate of the world as anyone knew it.

His tune changed when he walked into class on day one and saw a young kid there. One of those baby geniuses? He didn’t speak much, but Yato could tell he was completing his work faster than anyone else. Probably already knew the textbook better than the teacher. He didn’t even show up to class half the time, so confident was he in passing all their exams and turning in assignments far beyond what was asked for.

Yato cornered this kid one day, still not clear what his name was. Yuki? Something like that.

“Hey, kid.”

The middle schooler glared at him. “What do you want?”

“Why’s a runt in this university-level course?”

The kid tried to shove him away. “This is computer science for babies for one thing, and for another, I’m not a runt. I’m fourteen.”

“You look like a runt to me.”

The kid actually growled, so Yato backed off a bit. “Okay, so maybe I was going at this the wrong way. You seem smart. I wanna be friends. Help me pass this class. Please?” He plastered his most winning smile over his face. The one that made all the ladies back at the compound give him indifferent pats on the head when he was younger, and made them blush when he got older.

All this sassy child gave him was a punch in the gut and a muttered “Moron.” Yato doubled over, wheezing. He had never been this disrespectful at that age, had he?

Yato didn’t see him again for another week, and by that time he was in serious trouble. For their final, the professor wanted them to make an unbeatable game, and Yato was frustrated. He’d signed up to learn how to hack a flash drive, not waste his time programming tic-tac-toe. Naturally, he hadn’t bothered learning the material and was in danger of failing.

But finally he was able to successfully persuade (bribe?) the kid, who he’d nicknamed Yukine, to come by his place to help him study.

“So, you’re kinda a hack, right?” Yato asked during a snack break.

Yukine frowned. “A hack _er_. But yeah, I’d say I’m not bad.”

“Cool. Break into any government databases recently?”

“Are you kidding me? I don’t wanna get arrested.”

“That’s fair. But you _could_ do it if you wanted.”

“Probably, yeah.”

“So I have this thing with the same level of security. I don’t know if you’d even be able to solve it, though. It’s pretty securely locked.”

Yukine was already gesturing for Yato to hand it over. “Oh, please. Like you’re one to talk.”

It took him less than an hour to crack the code that had been stumping Yato for months, a programming language his father had invented from scratch. Yet the guts of Yato’s father’s time travel research lay spread out on the monitor before them, and Yato grinned.

“Got ’em. Thanks, kid.”

“No problem. Cough up.”

Yato jumped back. “You want me to _pay_ you?”

“I did work for you, didn’t I? _And_ I’m tutoring your dumb ass. Pay me. I’m not free, or cheap.” As he said this, he flicked through the files on the flash drive. “The hell is this, anyway? Looks pretty serious—wait, does this say time travel?”

Yato shook his head dramatically. “Ah, you poor soul. Now you know too much. Henceforth, you shall become my hostage.” He was pulling a quote from an anime he’d watched a long time ago out of thin air, but Yukine’s reaction made him continue the charade.

“Wait— _hostage_ _?_ You’re joking, right?”

“I’m afraid not. This is top secret. My eyes only. And yours, if you swear not to tell a soul.”

To his surprise, Yukine simply started coming by the lab more often after that, and staying later every time. He didn’t really buy into the whole hostage thing (not that Yato had expected him to), but when he showed up at the door one day with suitcases stuffed full of his belongings, neither of them said anything to each other. They didn’t have to. Yato had a nasty feeling that any middle schooler taking university-level classes for extra credit was doing anything to stay away from home. Even though Yukine claimed he’d technically already graduated high school and they were just being stingy and keeping his diploma away from him, he expertly veered the topic away from family every time.

Which suited Yato just fine. After all, there wasn’t a whole lot he could say about _his_ family that didn’t warrant some kind of formal investigation. So Yukine joined the lab as its second member, the two of them grew closer in the ensuing two years, and Yato still didn’t know a damn thing about computers, leaving all software-related matters and potential hacking to his sidekick and only friend.

* * *

Following their all-day testing, the only food in the whole apartment was a bunch of bananas and some frozen chicken nuggets.

“What would happen if we put some food in there?”

Yato frowned at the bananas, then shrugged and tossed them in amid Yukine’s complaints.

“Hey, I just bought those! Can you not be so wasteful?”

“Compromise,” said Hiyori. She separated one banana from the bunch, setting the rest back on the table. “At least if you fry a banana, it’s only one of them.”

Yukine grumbled. “Still don’t see why it has to be _my_ snack, though.”

“Hey, if nothing else, we’re probably the first people on Earth to microwave a banana,” Yato pointed out. “I wonder if it’ll explode.”

“If it does, you’re cleaning it.”

Yato typed a message to Yukine that called him a pleb, then set the timer for two minutes.

To think, before he’d sent the fateful message to Yukine, his plan involving the microwave had been riddled with failure and derailed from time travel to a microwave that could cook your food before you got home.

Yukine had wasted no time poking all sorts of holes in the theory; Yato was certain he derived glee from it. He’d pointed out that you’d still have to put the food in before leaving, not to mention there’d be no way to stir it in the meantime, and had he considered different wattage, and on and on until Yato had snapped at him to shut up and shelved the invention.

He sent the message, and the three of them peered inside as the turntable spun backward (another detail they’d noticed). The microwave beeped, Yato jumped to open it...and it was empty.

“What the...Where did it go?” Hiyori looked behind the microwave, underneath it, checked between the shelves, but there was no banana. “It was there, I know it was! I blinked, and then it was gone!”

“I didn’t see it disappear either,” Yukine said, “but I think I just found it.”

They both spun to look at him; he pointed to the table. There was a bunch of bananas, one of them oddly green and slimy-looking.

“There were four before I took one off,” said Hiyori. “So now there should be three.”

Yato poked the odd one out. It had developed a gel-like consistency, but the others were normal. “Check this out,” he said, pointing to the stem. It was seamlessly attached to the rest, aside from being made of a different material. “Hiyori, think back. Was this the one you grabbed?”

“I...I think so,” she said. She swallowed, her eyes wide.

“Only one thing left to do, then.” Yato stuck his finger directly into the gel banana (gelnana?) and licked it.

“Tastes like nothing,” he said, shuddering. “Gross.”

“Ewww, I think I’m gonna be sick.” Yukine was holding a hand to his mouth, and indeed, he did look a little green. He turned away from the bananas with a shudder.

Yato pulled out a plastic bag from a kitchen drawer, separating the gelnana from the rest and scooping it in. “I’m going to look at this under a microscope next time I get to campus,” he said, sealing it.

Meanwhile, Hiyori simply stared at the remaining bananas as if she was expecting another one to turn to gel right in front of them.

Yato leaned his elbows on the table next to her. “What’s on your mind, genius?”

She ignored the jibe. “I was thinking of repeating some tests with different variables to see what we get. Let’s go shopping, boys.”

* * *

He’d run away once before. Only once. He’d gotten on a local train, glancing around wide-eyed at all the new sights for a few hours. After getting bored with the scenery he’d disembarked, not glancing at so much as a street sign to orient himself.

It was a small, unfamiliar city, and as he walked past a chain-link fence he saw some kids about his age playing on a field. School...he’d always wanted to go to school. There hadn’t been much in the way of education at Yomi, only one tired teacher instructing him and Hiiro in the most basic of skills. Once they’d mastered those, it was on to advanced physics. Hiiro always been better than him at memorizing all those formulas; he tended to wing it.

 _Hiiro_...With a pang, he realized he’d have to go back for her eventually. But for now he just needed to survive. He knew this, yet continued to watch the kids chase each other around laughing until a teacher summoned them back inside and they filed in obediently, still punching each other’s arms in a way he supposed was affectionate. He clutched at the fence, hoping someone would spot him and usher him inside where he could truly belong. After spending most of his life up until that point wanting for nothing more to work alongside Father, he was now having second thoughts.

His father allowed him seven days. During that time, he foraged for food out of trash cans and spent his days skulking by the school hoping they’d let him attend. He liked watching the other kids at play; at night his dreams were filled with them asking to be friends.

On the morning of the eighth day he was yanked out of his hiding spot by one of Father’s masked goons, the Rounders.

“Playtime’s over,” he said, shaking little Yaboku’s wrist. “Your father needs you back home.”

With a regretful last glance at the dirty, cramped alley he’d called home for one week, Yaboku let himself be pulled back into the monotony of his daily life.

* * *

As it turned out, food was of little consequence to the Coo Phone (Name TBA). Larger items were gelified and returned to their previous location, while small things like salt failed to be affected at all. After deducing it had something to do with mass, the three admitted they were stumped and moved on.

Hiyori retired to the couch, doing some reading on her phone, while Yato packed up his things to look at the original gelnana under a microscope. Yukine was navigating some back-end code at Yato’s request, trying to see if he could break through Yomi’s paranoid security system and get some more data.

“Yato?” Yukine called. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

Yato took a deep breath, then joined him at the computer. “What’s up?”

“I ran a preliminary search in Yomi’s database looking for the words ‘time machine’ but got zero. However, there’s a lot of mentions of something called ‘Project Z’—”

“That’s it,” Yato broke in.

Yukine frowned. “I thought so. After reading some emails mentioning a ‘Jellyman Report,’ I dug a little deeper and found it. The name intrigued me, and it’s, well….”

Yato and Hiyori looked over Yukine’s shoulder. On the screen was a file written in English and stamped all over with the word CLASSIFIED. There was a headshot of a man Yato didn’t know, captioned with basic information about his age (37), nationality (Switzerland), and sex (male). The date at the top was 2001. Yukine had highlighted a section from the top of the report; Hiyori translated it aloud.

“ _Project Z Phase 1: R &D. Phase 2: Creating Micro Black Holes. Phase 3: Live Animal Testing_.” Hiyori paused and swallowed. “ _Phase 4: Live Human Testing_.”

They all recoiled from the screen. She cleared her throat and continued, her voice shaky. “ _Phase 4, Test #1: Project Z only able to transfer low-mass objects. If larger objects are inserted, they compress to a shredded, gel-like state and reappear in a seemingly arbitrary location. We suggest improving the lifter before conducting further tests. Conclusion: SUBJECT FAILURE. ERROR: MISMATCH_.”

The words glowed eerily on the screen; Yato swallowed the revulsion in his throat.

“‘Subject Failure.’ And the thing about mass...Does this mean...that man died?” Hiyori’s expression had turned grave.

“I think we should stop here,” Yato interrupted. “Let me read the rest. You two...leave for the day. Turn this off and get out.”

They rounded on him in unison.

“What?”

“Why?”

Yato suppressed a shiver. “We are in way over our heads here. If they catch us snooping…”

“They won’t,” Yukine said firmly.

“It doesn’t matter!” Yato snapped. “I don’t want you getting dragged into this! We may have just discovered something we shouldn’t have. And you, Hiyori—you just graduated, for heaven’s sake! Your thesis got published in a major journal! You have your whole life ahead of you—”

Hiyori shook her head, the fire from earlier back in her eyes. “I appreciate your concern, Yato. Really, I do. But Yomi’s already after me, so learning how to beat them at their game will help us gain the edge. It’s our responsibility to get to the bottom of this.” She laughed without humor. “Besides, if I leave now I’m going to be up all night wondering what was in that file.”

Yukine nodded. “And I hacked them in the first place. We’re all in pretty deep shit, but they won’t find us. I made sure of it.”

Yato exhaled, trying to steady himself. “Okay. Fine. Stay if you want, but don’t blame me for what we find.”

The next page of the file was a scanned newspaper clipping from the _New York Times_. The date was 1921—eighty years before the test date.

“ _Mysterious ‘Jellyman’ Found in Union Square_ ,” read Hiyori. They squinted at the picture. It was hard to tell, but it looked like half a human body and nothing about it resembled the man on the previous page. The right half was stuck inside the wall, while the remainder was made of the same gooey material as the banana from before. Its arm was raised over its head, eyes bulged, and what appeared to be its mouth was open in a scream.

“Oh, God,” breathed Hiyori. She nudged Yukine, who was gaping at the picture as well. “Keep scrolling.”

Yato’s stomach clenched. If this was heading where he thought it was heading….

The next report, dated 2003, was similar to the first, again suggesting an improvement to the lifter. It also ended with “ _Conclusion: SUBJECT FAILURE. ERROR: MISMATCH_.”

The second news article was from 2001. A similar picture, this time in grainy color, accompanied it. A gelified person with its left foot fused to a tree trunk had been found in a forest in France. Both its arms were raised, but the roughly humanoid head revealed no expression.

By now Yato’s knees were weak, but they kept scrolling through the report. A dozen trials, a dozen methodologies, news stories in a dozen languages spanning across the globe, all ending with the same, matter-of-fact conclusion.

_SUBJECT FAILURE. ERROR: MISMATCH._

The last of the news articles was written in Japanese and had no report preceding it; Yukine paused to see if he could glean some more information. The year was 1936, and the short article discussed what appeared to be a prank—a human-shaped bag of gel damaged in a landslide had rolled to the base of Mt. Hiei in Kyoto. A zoomed-in, blurry photograph showed that it clutched a protection charm in its right hand.

Yato practically fell backward onto the floor. Hiyori and Yukine shot startled glances at him.

“I know...it’s messed up. That’s why we’re trying to stop this,” Hiyori said, kneeling next to him.

Yato shook his head. He couldn’t verbalize it—not to them. But that one...he’d seen it before.

“That bastard. That evil, evil bastard.” He pressed his head into his hands, but the photograph remained burned into his retinas.

“Was that person...a friend of yours?” Hiyori asked. Her voice was gentle. “I’m so sorry.”

He wouldn’t—couldn’t—say what was on his mind. Instead, he rocked back and forth, wishing the memories would go away.

* * *

He first met her as a young child. She was an intern working under his father, bright-eyed and ready to learn more from one of the brightest minds in the world, if one that had been shunned by the scientific community for some controversial research practices.

Most of the other people at the lab ignored him and Hiiro, surrounding his father. After all, children were a hindrance in their research. Their father seemed to think the same. Though he warmly praised them when they did well, he usually sneered at them with the rest of his entourage.

“Take them out of here,” he’d say to their teacher when he had to make one of his frequent trips to France, and the two would be swept away to spend their days in a sterile, white-walled room where they learned everything of molecular science and time travel and nothing of how to care for another person. It was something they had to teach themselves when they weren’t spending every spare moment working themselves to the bone.

“You have a lot of work to catch up on to be with me and the rest,” said their father. He ruffled Hiiro’s hair. “But I know you two will be the best assistants I could ask for when you do.”

At ten, young Yaboku was already cracking complex theories most physicists couldn’t figure out in their entire lives. A prodigy, his father crowed, and started showing him off to the adults as an asset. Something useful, something _wanted_. Not solely a child he pawned off to someone else when there was real work to be done.

But it was at six when he met the girl who would become his future, though he did not know it at the time. What he did know was that she gave him genuine smiles when the others would force a pained grimace onto their faces, then turn the other way.

She sat next to him as he scribbled on a whiteboard one day. “What’s your name, little one?”

He barely paused to write his name in a corner, then returned to his physics equations. Father wanted them solved by dinnertime.

“Yato? Does that say Yato?”

He opened his mouth to correct her, then decided that it didn’t matter and closed it again.

He saw that intern a few times every week after that. He learned a few things about her against his better judgment. She was called Sakura, she was an intern vying for a full-time position on his father’s research team, and she wanted to be his friend.

He let her. She was just another obstacle, like Hiiro—he’d prove himself smarter than her. Then his father would appreciate him.

Seemingly unconcerned with the consequences, Sakura persisted, and Yato (as he found he liked when she called him that) discovered he wasn’t all that unhappy with her companionship.

Their talks together turned from science and algorithms to the wonders of nature and the stars. Sakura said that when she was little, she dreamed of living among the stars, which had led her to pursue science in the first place. Yato gazed at the sky above, hidden under a veil of light pollution. It might be nice, he thought, not reminding her that stars were just enormous balls of flaming gas—not nearly as pretty up close.

The years passed, and he thought that maybe Sakura had no desire to manipulate him after all. She was just a kindhearted researcher who genuinely wanted to be his friend. Too used to being ignored by greedy adults who were after their own shares of the prize, Yato wasn’t sure what to make of her.

He brought this up one day to Hiiro, who stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. “You think she’s your _friend?_ Grown-ups lie, they always do. Except Father, of course.”

“Not this one,” Yato protested. “I think this one is different.”

“Hmph. We’ll see how you feel when she betrays you.”

More years passed, and Yato was now a teenager. Sakura progressed from an internship to being a full-fledged member of his father’s research team. His right-hand woman, as it were. Meanwhile, their organization moved deeper underground. Yato and Hiiro had no teachers anymore, but they had outpaced common education years ago anyway. They were well on their way to working right alongside their father and Sakura. Just like Yato had always dreamed.

Except now he wasn’t working with his father. He was working against him. Yato had been designing schemes of his own, secretly plotting the ways he’d take control of Yomi and use it for the good of the general public rather than to take over the world, and he’d only shared his ideas with one other person.

“This is for you,” Sakura said one day, pressing her handmade charm into Yato’s hand.

He blinked at it, then shoved it back at her. “Sakura, I can’t take this. It’s yours.”

“I want you to have it,” she repeated.

“For what?” he’d scoffed, and regretted it instantly. She took the charm back with a sad look.

“To protect you. That’s what it’s supposed to do…”

“Sakura, wait….”

But she was already gone.

Back then, Yato had been too caught up in his dreams of improving Yomi to notice the warning signs. The hand that rested on Sakura’s shoulder a little too long, the hungry glint in his father’s eye. Yato spent many nights lying awake wondering that if he had noticed, he might have been able to stop what happened next.

Sakura remained unmarried, joking that science was her husband. Yato’s father took that to mean that she belonged to him. She rejected him. One word from him, and she was no more.

She’d always been opposed to using his father’s enemies as their test subjects for their incomplete time travel research. Now, she’d spared someone else in a way by becoming one of them.

Not that it mattered. The tests continued.

* * *

Despite the sobering information they’d gained, by the following afternoon Yukine was back to pecking away at the computer keyboard, trawling through massive amounts of stolen data. Hiyori joined him to help translate whenever he found a potentially useful file, as the reports were largely written in English.

Yato stayed curled up on the couch, listlessly watching them dig for clues. How had he gotten here? He was supposed to be a regular university student enjoying his summer break. Now an indelible part of his past was uncoiling itself to strike.

Yukine had assured him he was double- and triple-checking to make sure their data mining was going unnoticed, yet Yato remained fearful. His father had always been two steps ahead of him in the past. He hadn’t tracked Yato to Akiba yet, but was that because Yato had done a halfway decent job of hiding himself the last two years, even going so far as to use a fake name?

Or was his father merely biding his time, letting Yato dutifully do his research for him?

He didn’t know. The only thing he _did_ know was that the silence on the other end was deafening.

* * *

Yato returned from the university lab to find Yukine reading through their stolen information and Hiyori sprawled on the couch, whiteboard on her lap and feet kicked up like she owned the place. She seemed to be zoned in to whatever work she was doing; the board was almost completely covered in her small, neat handwriting.

He leaned over her shoulder. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

Hiyori jumped, almost bumping heads with him. “You scared me! I didn’t hear you at all!”

Yato frowned. “Really? I wasn’t trying to be quiet or anything.”

She cleared her throat. “Guess I was just that focused. Anyway, how did it go?”

Yato deposited the bag with the gelnana onto the kitchen table next to its companions. “Shredded down to the molecular level,” he said. “It wasn’t just gel-ified, it was torn apart. So unless we want that happening to us, we should stick to transporting data. Anyway, what’s all that?”

“Good to know,” Hiyori replied. “And I’m writing down everything we know about how these D-Mails work. Just to keep it in one place.”

“Is there any reason you’re doing it on a whiteboard instead of on paper?”

She looked down as if she was just realizing it herself. “I started off with simple equations and my thought process sort of...spiraled. Also, you guys don’t have much in the way of non-scratch paper.”

“Yukine, you heard the lady. Go get us some new paper and pencils,” Yato called over his shoulder.

“Eat shit, old man,” Yukine replied without pause. “I’m not your slave.”

Hiyori glanced between the two of them. “Is...everything okay?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, this is just how we communicate,” said Yato. “It’s fine, I can stop by an office supply store next time I’m out.”

She nodded. “I’d appreciate that. And, um, I can give you money since it was my idea in the first place…”

He waved his hand. “It’s fine, it’s dirt cheap. Plus I’ve been meaning to stock up for a while now.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be financially struggling because of me.” Her cheeks reddened.

“Who said anything about struggling?” Yato raised an eyebrow. “I do part-time work for the folks downstairs and any odd jobs they send my way. We’re okay. Not as loaded as you, maybe, but one ream of paper and a box of pencils won’t send me into bankruptcy.”

Hiyori was blushing even more now and fanned her face with a rolled-up magazine. “Oh. I’m sorry for assuming...Is it hot in here, or is it just me…?”

Yato laughed. “I’m not rich enough for air conditioning.”

“What’s that vent for, then?” She indicated an air vent situated in the middle of the wall.

It was his turn to blush. “I don’t want to talk about—”

“Yato tried to turbocharge our central air conditioning system and screwed the whole thing up,” deadpanned Yukine. “So if we turn it on, there’s a good chance we’ll all die.”

“Traitor,” Yato hissed at him, then turned back to Hiyori, who was by now looking terrified on top of her bright red face. “My assistant has gotten it wrong. The air was already broken when I moved in. I was trying to both repair the system and equip a deadly neurotoxin to the vents to booby-trap the room from intruders.”

“And it failed?” she wondered.

“No, it was a success. Except now all the deadly neurotoxin is hard-wired to release when the air is turned on.”

“So it _did_ fail. What did you even put in there? Cyanide? Anthrax?” Hiyori shrank away from the thermostat as though touching it might set it off.

Yato snorted. “Not even. It’s just harmless steam. But telling people I have a deadly neurotoxin in the vents is way more intimidating, don’t you think?”

She relaxed a bit. “I guess so? But now you can’t even use the air.”

“That’s what I mean,” said Yukine. “This genius permanently re-configured the settings and is too damn paranoid to even try to change them back. If I try, it trips the whole system and the room gets flooded with steam in a matter of seconds.”

“We’ll live with just fans,” Yato promised. “Fans and cold showers. You’ll see one day. That neurotoxin may save our lives, so I’m keeping it. Hiyori, you’re welcome to use the shower if you’re still overheating.”

She peeked inside the bathroom and emerged with a wrinkled nose. “Very nice of you to offer, but I think I’ll stick to my hotel bathroom.”

“Fair enough.”

* * *

“Where is she?” Yato shouted. His father smiled and said nothing.

“Tell me! Or I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll do what?” his father sneered. “What, exactly, will you do?” He loomed over his son, and suddenly Yato remembered the pain of disobeying. His father had never been one to mince words; he preferred to beat his children into submission instead.

Yato’s posture sagged, and his arms dropped to his sides. His fingers trembled.

“That’s what I thought.” His father tossed him an ancient newspaper. Yato unfolded it to see the words he’d been afraid of. “She’s in a better place now. Don’t concern yourself with trivial thoughts of that girl ever again.”

Regardless of how his father threatened him, Yato had had enough. Something had been growing inside of him, and had taken Sakura’s death to realize the feeling and put a name to it—empathy. Something his father had no place for.

He was going to leave, and he was going to really hide this time. Someplace no one, not even his father, could find him.

When he was on his way out, Hiiro looked at him with her dark, empty eyes, and he found that there was more sadness in them than he had realized.

“You won’t tell him, then?” Yato hopped from foot to foot, eager to be going. She had declined to join him.

Hiiro shook her head, then turned back to her work. “Farewell, Yato.”

“I…” He stopped, fumbling over the words. They felt strange in his mouth, but he had to tell someone, to use them for the first time in his life. “I love you.”

Then he was out the door, and didn’t see Hiiro pause for a moment to wipe a tear from her eye.

His first step was to steal a blank flash drive from his workspace. Then he snuck into his father’s server room. Being a paranoid man, his father changed the password weekly, but Yato always had it by the middle of the week.

Though he wasn’t able to snatch the whole stash, he duplicated a large chunk of files onto the flash drive. He estimated he had about five minutes before his father came to investigate the security breach, but he’d already plotted his escape. Pausing only to retrieve a duffel bag stuffed with some spare clothes and as much cash as he could swipe, Yato went aboveground and fled into the night.

* * *

After a solid week of shooting back inconsequential D-Mails, Yato was getting impatient. They had proven their messages _were_ traveling back in time and had nailed down many of the specifics, so the feeling they were wasting their time crept up on him. He proposed getting a little more drastic, and his companions agreed.

Yato, Hiyori, and Yukine ran their first big test with the simplest thing they could think of: lottery numbers. They wrote down the winning numbers for a week ago, set the timer, then sent the mail back. Yato instructed himself to buy LOTO 6 with the promise that it would be a big winner, but fudged a couple of the numbers on purpose. Exchanging an excited glance with the boys, Hiyori did the honors.

**_0.571015_ **

At the precise moment that Hiyori pushed send, Yato felt a curious sensation—the world seemed to turn monochrome and drip together like melting wax. Vertigo filled his stomach; the sensation faded a moment later.

“Hey! Hey, Yato!” Yukine was waving his hand in front of Yato’s face.

Yato jumped, and slowly the world solidified. He was standing in the lab. Yukine was in front of him, while Hiyori was staring at the whiteboard, deep in thought.

“Are you okay? You suddenly spaced out,” said Yukine, a twinge of concern flitting across his face before it was replaced by his customary frown.

“What were we doing just now?”

“What?”

“Just answer me.”

Yukine tilted his head to the side. “We were discussing what sort of D-Mail we wanted to send. Then you just froze.”

“How long was I standing there for?”

“About ten seconds, give or take.”

Yato frowned. “So we haven’t sent the D-Mail.”

“No. Yato, are you okay?”

He pressed his hand to his forehead. “I think so. I just...don’t remember that. I thought we—that’s right! We sent lottery numbers!”

Hiyori perked up at that. “Oh! That’s a good idea. We should do that first!”

“We did. Don’t you remember? You were the one who sent it.”

“What?”

Yato shook his head. “Never mind. I need some fresh air.” He spun around and ran down the steps, slamming the door behind him.

He didn’t go far, just to the quiet street below. The sky overhead was so blue it hardly seemed real, and only the faintest hints of clouds wandered across.

“Yato-chaaaan!” He turned to see Kofuku, running out from the shop to tackle him in a rib-crushing hug.

“Hi, Kofuku. Where’s Daikoku?” He peeled the tiny woman from off his midsection. Little though she was, her hugs packed a punch that was almost as strong as her husband’s.

“He’s not here right now. Why, do you need him for something?” She pursed her lips in a childish, exaggerated expression.

“No! Not at all, just wondering.” In fact, Daikoku had a reputation of threatening to raise Yato’s rent every time he so much as caught a glance at him. Whenever that happened, Kofuku would slip him money on the side.

“Oh, yeah!” she exclaimed, digging into her pockets. “I got you that lottery ticket you wanted!”

Yato blinked. “You did?”

“You forwarded me the numbers last week.” She passed it to him. Indeed, it was a LOTO 6 ticket, and he’d have to double-check the numbers to make sure, but they looked like the same ones from the D-Mail.

Had it sent after all? Hiyori and Yukine had been so confused, he was almost starting to think he’d dreamed it.

“Hey, by the way,” he said, pocketing the ticket, “have you seen the building shaking or anything like that?”

Kofuku’s eyes grew round. “Oh, you mean like all the shaking that was happening yesterday?”

“Exactly like that! Did any happen today?”

“Hmm, no, I didn’t see anything so far.” She giggled. “Let me know when you’re planning to do that again. It felt like the building was gonna come down! I loved it.”

Kofuku had quite the morbid sense of humor, Yato thought, but out loud he said, “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

So he really was the only one who remembered.

“No problem. Hmm, I don’t think we’ve gotten our earthquake safety standards renewed in a couple years.” She put a finger to her lips and winked. “That’s our little secret, though.”

 _Crap, maybe we_ should _move to a different location before we bring the floor down_. Daikoku would come back to life just to kill him, he was sure of it. Then resuscitate him and kill him all over again.

“Oh, hey, there’s my hubby!” Kofuku lifted her arm. “Daikokuuuuuuu! Welcome back!”

Yato jumped and turned to where she was waving. Sure enough, a motorcycle was turning down their street, the sound of its engine filling the normally quiet space between buildings. An equally impressive man pulled over and put down the kickstand, removing a helmet and wrapping Kofuku in a bear hug. He shot Yato a glare.

“What are you doing, freeloader?” Daikoku snarled.

“I was just—”

“You weren’t telling my lady anything weird, right?” A massive hand stroked her bubblegum-pink curls.

Yato flinched, thinking of how it would feel to be punched by that hand. “N-no, I—”

“Yato-chan wasn’t putting any weird ideas in my head!” Kofuku’s defiant voice came from somewhere in the depths of Daikoku’s arms, and she pointed her head up to look at him. One of her fingers poked his cheeks; Yato noticed she was standing on tiptoes to do so. “He was just telling me about his super-secret experiments.”

Daikoku shot him another glare. “I’ll raise your rent if you make the place shake again, got it?”

“Yes, sir, we’re done for today!” Yato stammered, shooting another glance at the second floor. Hiyori and Yukine chose that moment to resume their D-Mail experiments, and the building started rocking back and forth. _Shit._

If looks could kill, Yato would be six feet under in a heartbeat. “I’ll tell them to stop! Right now!” he squeaked, and ran upstairs before Daikoku could mention his rent again.

Inside the lab, Hiyori and Yukine were bent over the Coo Phone (Name TBA), but looked up with alarm as Yato ran in, heaving for breath.

“We’ve gotta stop!” he said, then doubled over, clutching his chest. _Note to self: get to the gym more._

“Stop what?” Hiyori looked scandalized. “The experiments?”

“Yes,” he wheezed. “Otherwise Daikoku’s gonna kill me.”

Yukine snorted. “Sounds like _your_ problem.”

Yato straightened up, breathing more normally now. “You live here too, brat.” He opened the minifridge in the hopes of finding something cold to drink, but the shelves were completely bare. Groaning, he collapsed on the couch instead.

“Just call it off for today. I don’t want to pay out the ass for this piece of shit building.”

“Don’t be a party pooper.” Hiyori threw him a pleading glance. “One more?”

“ _No._ You haven’t met Daikoku, have you? He’d tear you limb from limb without batting an eye.”

“Yato is the only person he acts like that to,” Yukine interjected. “He’s been nothing but an angel to me.”

“Only ’cause he loves kids.”

“Don’t say it like _that_.”

Hiyori was frowning now. “Wait, what? Is there something I’m missing here?”

“My landlord is scary but the place is dirt cheap so I tolerate him.” Yato shrugged. “That’s about it.”

“What about that part with him loving kids?”

Yukine rolled his eyes. “He’s exaggerating. Daikoku just likes to give kids free treats. Plus he pays me well when I do work for him downstairs. Well, I say ‘work,’ but it’s more of just ‘slacking.’ They don’t get a lot of customers.”

Hiyori let out a sigh of relief. “Oh. That’s good. I was about to call the cops.”

“I think the cops would run from him, to be honest.” Yato snorted. “I know _I_ sure as hell would. Anyway, check this out.” He stood up and pulled out the lottery ticket Kofuku had given him.

“You’re buying lottery tickets now?” Yukine raised an eyebrow at him.

“This is something we agreed to send to myself as a D-Mail, to see if our messages really could travel back in time.” Yato flipped open his phone and scrolled back to the D-Mail he’d received the previous week.

“I remember you saying something about that. But if we sent that...why do neither me nor Yukine remember?” Hiyori asked.

“When you change world lines, your memories get overwritten. Or, we always thought they would. But mine weren’t for some reason.” Yato knocked his fist against his skull. “I wonder why. Anyway, Yukine, can you check these numbers?”

Yukine took the ticket and opened a new tab on the computer. “I hope you picked something that’ll make us millionaires.”

Yato shifted his feet. “Well, not exactly. It’d be too conspicuous if we got our names in the news for the grand prize, so I took it down a notch.”

“To how much, exactly?” Yukine was navigating to the winning numbers.

“I think we picked sixth place...So, about 20,000 yen?”

“ _Seriously?_ ” The venom in Yukine’s voice made Yato flinch back to Hiyori, who was looking at him with more sympathy.

Yukine held up the ticket, comparing it to the winners. “We got...two out of the six right. Which means we win...200 yen. Sheesh. Is it even worth it to go collect the money?”

“Only 200? Kofuku must have messed up one of the numbers,” said Yato, giving the ticket another look. “So in addition to the ones we purposely missed, we lost another.”

“Well, don’t feel too down. We _did_ change an outcome, even if it got a little screwed up along the way,” Hiyori pointed out.

“That’s true. Now we just have to figure out what to do with this information.”

* * *

That evening, Yato turned down his street, a convenience store bag dangling off his arm. Inside it was dinner—classic cup noodles.

One of these days, he was going to get a proper kitchen and learn to make some real food. Convenience store meals and fast food were leading him to an early grave, he was sure.

He glanced up suddenly as he walked down the dark sidewalk. Someone was sitting on the bench outside Kofuku and Daikoku’s shop. _A customer? At this time of night?_

He caught the faint glow of a phone screen against a face. The voice reached his ears a moment later.

“I’m alone. What is it?” Hiyori asked. Yato stopped in his tracks and held his breath. Was he eavesdropping? Snooping? Otherwise poking his nose in where it didn’t belong?

Hiyori, meanwhile, remained silent on the line for a while. In the darkness, he saw her hand fly to her mouth. When she next spoke, it was with the trembling voice of someone doing their best not to cry. “Oh...okay. Thank you...for telling me.” She exchanged goodbyes, then hung up, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

Yato clenched his jaw. How on earth was he going to slip by her now? Better just to do the direct approach, he decided, and strode up to her side.

“What was that about? Rough breakup?” Instantly he knew he’d misjudged the appropriate response. Hiyori jumped at his voice, quickly pressing her sleeves to her face. But he’d already seen her red, puffy eyes.

“Shut up!” she squawked, voice cracking. “I’m not crying, okay?”

“Right.” He crossed his arms. “And I’m Santa Claus. Ho ho ho, merry Christmas to all and so on.”

Hiyori didn’t budge even a little. _Must really be bad_.

He dropped the act and sank to sit next to her on the bench. “Hiyori. If anything’s ever bothering you...you can tell me, you know? I’m here to help.”

A pause. Finally she nodded slowly, still refusing to look at him.

“That’s all I had to say. You don’t have to tell me now, or at all, but I want you to know I’m here for you.” He got up and headed for the door. Something snagged his sleeve before he could.

Yato turned to see Hiyori’s fingers ensnared in his jacket, her eyes fixed resolutely on the ground. Shrugging, he sat back down, glad it was still warm outside. He could tell this was going to be a long night.

* * *

After about an hour of sitting there in silence, Hiyori uncurled herself from how she had been sitting—knees drawn to chest, arms wrapped tightly around. Though the temperature was hovering close to thirty degrees at past midnight, a shiver seemed to rest deep in her bones. She stood and stretched. Yato shook himself out of a light doze and blinked up at her in the faint glow of distant city lights.

“I hate to ask more of you, but could you walk me back to my hotel?”

Yato hopped to his feet, embarrassed to find that one of them had fallen asleep. He smacked it against the ground a few times. “Of course.”

“Thank you.”

As they wound their way through the nearly-empty streets, Yato turned his gaze skyward. A thin sheet of clouds covered the sky. Perhaps it would rain later, though it would do nothing to relieve the oppressive heat.

Hiyori’s stomach growled. She blushed and slapped it. It growled again.

Yato laughed. “Dinner?” He held out his bag of cup noodles, glad he’d bought two just in case.

She wrinkled her nose but took one anyway. “Better than nothing, I guess. I don’t suppose many restaurants are open at this hour.”

“You are correct, though if you want there’s a pretty amazing teriyaki place a few blocks over this way. They’re open all night.” He waved vaguely to the right.

Hiyori smiled. “I’ll pass on it this time. But thank you. And thanks for the food. And for...everything else.”

“Of course. If you find you still need help with those...other things, don’t hesitate to let me know. I can help you work it out.”

By now, they were standing outside the lobby of her hotel. Hiyori turned back to face him once more. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, but the spark from before was returning.

“I appreciate that. Good night, Yato.”

“Good night, Hiyori.”

He stayed outside for a while, even after she’d disappeared into the elevator. Maybe he should have seen her off all the way to her room. No, that was silly—the hotel was fancy, and in a safe corner of Akihabara.

Shaking his head, Yato turned back to the lab. His stomach growled.

* * *

The next day, Yato headed downstairs for a walk, hoping to stretch his legs and clear his head in the midst of their testing—a lifter was essential for a functioning time machine according to their model, yet they didn’t know what theirs was.

Outside there was a slight breeze, the air not quite so stifling. After walking about ten minutes out, he turned back down their familiar, quiet street, and saw Kofuku standing outside the shop. Though she wore an apron and had a broom in her hands, she was motionless. She looked up when Yato approached.

“Yato-chan, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Suddenly apprehensive, Yato fought a shiver and nodded. “What’s up?”

They were evicting him, probably. Daikoku had finally had enough. His heart rate rose as he started thinking of other options. He’d seen a building a couple blocks over that was advertising units for sale….

“The window…” Kofuku motioned to the second-floor window, which Yato had propped open earlier in a failed attempt to get some air circulation going. “Sound travels through that window, you know?”

Yato gulped. She’d probably heard them talking about D-Mail and time machines and who knew what other kind of classified content. He tried to think back on what they’d discussed earlier. If they’d said one incriminating thing, he could wind up in jail. Time machines probably didn’t violate any sort of law, but he wasn’t sure how he’d explain his various fake IDs.

Kofuku smiled, somehow looking older than he’d ever seen her. “I’m not mad or anything. In fact, I have a request.” She leaned the broom against the shop window and took Yato’s hands, staring deep into his eyes. “Yato-chan, would you let me be so selfish as to use your little time machine?”

Yato glanced toward the shop. “Does Daikoku—”

She shook her head. “He’s not around. This is a private request.”

Yato sighed. “Do you want to come upstairs and talk about it? I need to know what I’m getting myself into.” She nodded and followed him upstairs.

Yato cleared his throat; Hiyori and Yukine seemed surprised by the guest but moved away from the Coo Phone (Name TBA) and seated themselves on the couch, apparently sensing they were about to talk business. Kofuku sat on the floor beside the coffee table; Yato chose to stand.

“So,” he began. “Kofuku wants to use our Coo Phone (Name TBA).”

Kofuku nodded, staring at her folded hands. She was uncharacteristically still. “We...Daikoku and I...we used to have a child. He was not ours biologically, but we may as well have been his real parents. His name was Daigo.” The ghost of a smile lifted her lips.

Yato’s stomach clenched. He had never heard this before; this story didn’t have a happy ending.

She told them slowly—Daikoku’s lifelong desire to be a father mixed with their infertility. Eventually, they had adopted a baby boy with the intent to raise him as if he was theirs. Things went well for a time, and they were happy with their new son.

But then he entered his rebellious teenage years. He started to wonder why he wasn’t like the other kids. He didn’t look anything like his parents; didn’t like any of the same foods; didn’t share their desires.

“Of course, he knew he was adopted, but there was this lingering insecurity...we couldn’t ever get rid of.” Kofuku fiddled with the hem of her apron, looking like she was on the verge of tears. “We loved him just the same, if not more as the other parents. I think he knew that, but...”

Daigo started staying out later and later every night. His grades took a dive; teachers told them he’d stopped coming to class.

One night, he got furious. He told them his failures were their fault for being bad parents, and they could never be his _real_ mom and dad. They got angry too, and it escalated until Daigo ran out the front door, slamming it behind him. He had hardly been gone a couple of hours before the police turned up at their door, informing them they’d found his body.

“To this day I don’t know what happened.” The tears in Kofuku’s eyes welled up and started spilling over. “But he’s dead now. He’s dead, and do you know what his last words to us were? ‘I hate you.’” She pressed her face into her hands, sniffling.

Hiyori snatched a tissue box and passed one to her, kneeling beside her and giving her a hug.

Yato, meanwhile, was rubbing his eyes. It was a lot to take in—Kofuku, who always looked so happy and carefree, was harboring this kind of secret?

It took her a few minutes to be able to speak again. “It tore Daikoku apart, you know. We’ve stopped talking about it, but I know not a single day went by where he hasn’t regretted not running out after him. _I_ regretted it too. I keep thinking that I could have done something.”

She blew her nose and fixed Yato with those big, watery eyes. “So that’s my request, Yato-chan. Bring Daigo back to us. Please...He’d be about Yuki’s age now, if he were still here. I think they would be friends.” She smiled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I’m sorry for being so emotional. I just...I miss him.”

“Of course you do,” Hiyori said in a soothing voice, and shot Yato a look that said _How long are we gonna keep her hanging like this?_

Yato rubbed his eyes again. “So it sounds like you want us to send a D-Mail, but saying what? To whom?”

Kofuku laced her fingers together. “If I send myself the location where the police found his body, we should be able to get there in time to prevent his death. I remember the exact place, as well as the date and time he died. Will that be enough?”

“It should be.” Hiyori answered in his place, giving her gentle pats on the back. “Right, Yato?” She shot him a look over Kofuku’s head.

Yato folded his arms, clenching his fists as tightly as he could. “I still don’t know we should be using the Coo Phone (Name TBA) like this without knowing more—”

“Oh, just give the lady what she wants.” Yukine, who had been silent through the story, interrupted at last. “Yato, don’t be heartless. Bring back her dead kid, for God’s sake. We have the power to do it.”

“I agree,” said Hiyori. “If we’re not using a time machine to help people, what _are_ we doing?”

Yato sucked in a breath. They were right, he knew that much. But he felt so uneasy about changing the past on purpose. It was one thing to do it with lottery numbers, but bringing back a whole life? What else would change?

Seeing Kofuku this broken down, however...it was more than he could bear.

“All right,” he finally said. Kofuku looked up, tears still shining on her cheeks. “I’ll do it.”

Kofuku sprang to her feet and subjected him to one of her famous rib-crushers. Hiyori and Yukine looked relieved as well.

“Thank you, Yato-chan!” she said. “I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow!”

“That’s not necessary, really,” he stammered. “Just don’t raise my rent.”

She sob-laughed. “I would never.”

“Well, are you ready to do it right now?” Yato asked as he pried her off of him.

Kofuku nodded, curls bouncing. “I don’t want to lose another second! Let’s do this.”

Yato set up the Coo Phone (Name TBA) and punched numbers into a calculator to determine the timer based on the information Kofuku had given him.

While he did this, Kofuku composed the D-Mail to herself. It didn’t take long, and they peered over her shoulder to read the draft:

_Help Daigo!_

_12-21 Otowa 2-chome_

_Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo 112-8001_

It certainly got the point across. Yato took a deep breath and held his finger over the start button. “Ready?”

Kofuku clutched her phone as though it were a lifeline, and gave a single nod. “Let’s do this.”

 _No going back now_ , he thought, and pushed the button. After a few seconds, the electrical discharge started, and Yato jerked his chin at Kofuku.

“Do it now!” he yelled over the rumbling. She looked at him, her phone, and the Coo Phone (Name TBA), an uneasy expression coming over her face. But after a few seconds, she pushed the button. An agonizing moment went by as the message sent, and then everything froze once more.

Yato felt that swooping sensation in his stomach as the world turned to monochrome around him, details blending together. Then his sight was gone, and he felt himself falling through blackness before jolting upright with a start.

**_0.523299_ **

It took him a few seconds to adjust; he shook his head around like he was trying to get water out of his ear. Finally, the details settled.

He was back in the lab. No surprises there. Hiyori was working at the dining room table and had not registered him in the slightest.

Yukine was nowhere to be seen.

A cold pit of dread formed in Yato’s stomach. He opened the bathroom door and yanked back the dev room curtain. Nothing. He opened the window and looked outside. Empty.

“What are you doing?” Hiyori asked, looking up from her notes. “Why the stomping?”

“Hiyori, I need you to answer a question.” She blinked at him.

“What?”

“Where is Yukine?”

She frowned. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not. Just tell me, where is he right now?”

“He just left...You know, to go to that RaiNet tournament or whatever? That ringing a bell?”

“He— _what?_ ” Since when had Yukine been a tournament gamer? He hated fun more than anyone else Yato had met since ditching Yomi.

Hiyori tapped her pencil against the table. “Okay, so apparently you don’t. Well, he should be back in a couple hours, so don’t worry. And he’s in good hands. Daigo is responsible.” She pointed the eraser end at him. “That solve your temporary amnesia?”

“I...yeah. I need to sit down.” Yato fell into the chair opposite her, resting his elbows on the table.

“You okay? You seem sick.”

“I’m fine. We just...We changed the world line. And things are...well, I’ll need to see _how_ different, but they’re different.”

“We’re all still here, aren’t we?” Hiyori’s smile was grim at best.

“That’s the thing…” Yato didn’t finish his sentence despite her expectant look; eventually she shrugged and turned back to her notes. He watched her for a while, battling the dread of seeing how everything was different on this world line. Eventually he resigned himself to his own twisted curiosity and headed downstairs, trying to steady his nerves.

Outside, Daikoku was up on a stepstool, fixing the shop awning where it had come loose. He glanced down as he saw Yato, and gave him a big smile.

“Hey, freeloader! Fancy giving me a hand here?”

Yato was so caught off guard he stopped in his tracks and blinked up at Daikoku’s massive form. This certainly _was_ different, and he wasn’t sure it was better.

“I—Sure. What do you need me to do?”

“Hold these, please.” Daikoku passed him a hammer and some nails. He took them, staring at them with eyebrows raised and wondering how he should phrase the next part of his question. Not that he was entirely sure which of the thousands he would ask next.

“Do you...this might sound stupid, but do you know Kofuku?”

Daikoku squinted down at him from where he was lining up the nail with the door frame. “You’re right, that sounds very stupid. Of course I know Kofuku. Why wouldn’t I know my own ex-wife?”

The hammer in Yato’s hands clattered to the floor, nearly missing his feet, but he didn’t register it, staring in shock at the statement Daikoku had said so nonchalantly.

Daikoku was looking at him again. “Are you feeling okay? It’s all those weird experiments you guys do up there, and the stuffy air—remind me to get that floor better ventilated.”

His lips were moving, but the words couldn’t penetrate the buzzing deep in Yato’s skull.

 _This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong_. Without realizing what he was doing, he turned and dashed back up the stairs, ignoring Daikoku’s calls.

Hiyori was seated at the table as she had been just a minute ago, and glanced at him when he burst in. “What’s up? Did something bad happen?”

“Not exactly.” Yato fell back into the chair opposite her, massaging his temples. “But I don’t know if it’s a good thing either. Hiyori—and I don’t care how stupid this might sound—what do you know about Kofuku and Daikoku?”

“Not much. Um, they were married, but parted ways a few years ago. But they’re still friends, and Kofuku comes by a lot to see Daigo. That kid is totally spoiled, by the way. But that’s about it, unless you were looking for something else?” She looked quizzically at him.

He shook his head. “That’s plenty, thank you.” He leaned back and pressed his hands to his face, thinking over everything that had happened. Daikoku and Kofuku had gotten their son back, but they were no longer a couple. While admittedly not the grand-scale shift he had feared, this revelation was enough to rock his world. Of all the scenarios he could have thought of, their breakup would be one of the last things on Yato’s list. It seemed so _wrong_ on a fundamental level. They were _always_ together and _always_ lovey-dovey.

But he thought of Daigo, and how he was alive and well, and apparently friends with Yukine. Those were all good things. In this case, the good outweighed the bad, didn’t it?

 _You’re being silly_ , he chided himself. A divorce wasn’t even _that_ bad in comparison to other scenarios. They were even on good terms. But still.

“You look sick,” Hiyori commented, glancing up from her notes again. “Want to talk about it?”

Yato shook his head, not entirely sure why he was refusing. “Maybe later.”

“Well, I’ll be here,” she said. The scratching of her pencil filled the otherwise quiet lab room, and Yato sat there with his brain stretched to capacity until Yukine and an unfamiliar, dark-haired boy walked in laughing together. They were recounting the tournament in detail; apparently Yukine had come in second place.

“Hey, Yato!” said the new kid as he took off his shoes. “Make any earth-shattering inventions since this afternoon?” He chuckled at his own joke.

Yukine rolled his eyes and grinned. “As if any of his inventions are anything _but_ useless.” They both got a good laugh out of that one, and Hiyori smiled too, though it wavered when she saw Yato’s mouth tighten at the corners.

* * *

That night, Daikoku knocked at their door, telling them that Kofuku was here to come pick up Daigo. Hiyori, still trying to lay out everything they’d discovered, did a double take at the time, then stood up as well and pulled on her shoes.

“I should get back to my room,” she said. “Thanks for having me again.”

Yato got to his feet. “Let me walk you back to your hotel. It’s late.”

“I’ll be okay. It’s only a few blocks.”

“I insist.”

Trying to hide her smile, she ushered him out ahead of her. Kofuku pounced on them at the bottom of the stairs. “These are for you!” She passed Hiyori a plastic shopping bag; she peeked inside to see rice balls.

“Oh, thank you!” she exclaimed. Yato peered over her shoulder, but seemed to recoil at the sight. 

She elbowed him. “Thank you, Kofuku,” he said on cue.

Kofuku beamed. “They’re my own special recipe! I hope you like them, Hiyorin.”

“I’m sure I will. Thanks again.”

Kofuku saw them off with a wave before heading home herself. Hiyori took another peek inside the bag. “That was nice of her.”

Yato didn’t answer, staring at the sky with a troubled expression.

“...What? You’re not still on about Yukine’s tease from earlier, are you?”

“Huh? Oh, no, not that. Just thinking.”

They crossed the street and cut through a quiet park. Instead of continuing to her hotel, Hiyori climbed to the top of the playground and squeezed herself into the child-size slide. Yato followed her lead and sat on a swing, still looking uneasy.

“Here, catch!” Hiyori tossed him a rice ball. He caught it, but handled it as though it might explode. She bit into hers, only to hack a lung out moments later as something unexpectedly spicy hit her throat.

“What—in the _world_ —is in these things?”

Yato nibbled at his, then poked his finger inside. “Kofuku likes to booby trap her rice balls. She calls them ‘Russian Roulette Onigiri.’ What was in yours?”

“Hot sauce, I _think_. Hotter than any I’ve tasted. What about you?”

“Well, at least that’s edible.”

“Debatable.”

He smirked. “I have toothpaste inside mine. I think.” He popped the finger into his mouth and grimaced. “Yeah, it’s toothpaste. Not even the good kind.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Ask her. I’ve known her for two years, but it took me one _day_ to realize she should not be allowed near a kitchen. Daikoku always keeps her—sorry, never mind.” His eyes fell, and he started picking toothpaste out of his rice ball and flicking it on the ground.

“Never mind what?” Hiyori resisted the urge to chuck another rice ball at him—possibly poisonous though they were, they had been a gift. “Yato, I’m just as much a part of the lab as you now. For better or for worse. So tell me: What’s been going on with you? You’ve been acting strange all evening.”

Yato seemed to have finished extracting the toothpaste, and made a face as he took a bite. “Definitely for worse. Anyway, all you really need to know is that we did a D-Mail favor for Kofuku, and now everything seems to be different.” He filled in the rest of the details of the experiment, then said, “So it’s not that I don’t _want_ to tell you, it’s that...well...time travel.”

“What about it?” she pressed.

“We can have this conversation now. I can spill my guts to you. But then the world line might change again, and you’ll forget it ever happened.”

Hiyori did her best to eat around the hot sauce center. “So?”

“I’d rather just keep things simple. I don’t like messing with time on this scale.”

“Kofuku was a special case, sounds like.”

“She was. But I’m afraid of one of our innocuous D-Mails going awry and screwing everything up.”

“Then we’ll just have to make extra sure they don’t say anything that could have a far-reaching impact.” Hiyori took another bite of the rice ball, finding that the hot sauce wasn’t so bad with a full mouthful of rice.

Yato frowned again. “That’s just it. Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?”

“From that short story? I had to read it for a college class.”

“No, it’s from chaos theory. The short story actually predates it.” Yato finished off his rice ball and gestured for another.

She tossed it to him. “May that one be edible.”

“Thanks. So the idea is that a butterfly that flaps its wings in Brazil causes a tornado in Texas. Basically, a seemingly small change can have disastrous, far-reaching consequences. We might not even be aware of them until it’s too late to change anything.”

Hiyori digested that for a while. According to Yato, they had changed the world line and made it so Daigo was still alive. He also remembered Daikoku and Kofuku being a married, loving couple, not a divorced and emotionally distant set of parents. But outside of their family, what else had changed? Was there indeed a ripple spreading out, changing things they were yet unaware of?

“Time travel sure is serious business,” she mused, dumping the last of the hot sauce on the ground and finishing up her rice ball.

“Tell me about it,” said Yato with a full mouth. “Which is why we’re being _careful_.”

“Oh, was that one good?”

“Sesame seeds.” He swallowed and burped. “Not too bad, considering.”

“Could have been a plastic toy. Has she done that before?”

“She’s done it all.”

Hiyori let him take a few more bites in silence, then asked, “So you said you used to work for Yomi. But tell me, what did you _really_ do? You seem to know an awful lot more than even experts in the field, like Bishamon.”

Yato choked on a bite. “You know Bishamon?”

“We’re colleagues, I’d say.”

“She’s not much of an expert on time travel,” he muttered, a bitter edge to his voice making her laugh instead. “No, really! She’s a particle physicist who’s decided to muscle her way into _my_ field. She doesn’t even know what she’s talking about.”

“Hey, watch it, we’ve collaborated a couple of times. And you still didn’t tell me what you did for them. At such a young age too.”

“I don’t like talking about it.” A shadow flitted across Yato’s face. “I ran away, actually. I couldn’t take it anymore, not when I found out exactly how deep the rabbit hole went.” He flashed her a grin. “Come on, we should get you back to your hotel.”

Hiyori scooted herself to the edge of the slide, skidding down a couple of feet before reaching the end. “These things are not as fun when you’re tall.”

They headed back to her hotel, making chitchat, but Yato’s remark about the world line changing stayed on her mind. He’d confided a lot in her, and she was starting to find a home in their little run-down lab. Could the world line change enough that she’d completely forget him?

* * *

Hiyori arrived at the lab bright and early the following morning, expression grim.

“What’s up?” Yato asked as he let her in. She ignored him, setting up shop next to the Coo Phone (Name TBA) as usual. Yukine was just emerging from the bathroom, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Seeing her face, he veered away and started making his bed.

“Hiyori?” Yato asked again. She kept her back to him, fussing over the machine for a while before finally her shoulders sagged and she looked back.

“I want to send a D-Mail.”

Yato blinked. “You do?”

“Not on my behalf. On my brother’s.”

Yato leaned forward, sensing a story. Hiyori stared at her hands for a while, then started speaking softly.

“Part of the reason I came back here for the summer was to see my grandma. Her health’s been declining for several years, but lately it’s gotten really bad. I didn’t think she’d last another year, so I came back to say goodbye. But….” She paused and swallowed. “Well, I was too late.”

Yukine stepped forward. “Hiyori, I’m so sorry.”

“No, hold on,” she said. “Last time I saw my grandma...the dementia had taken over. She didn’t recognize me anymore. This time they wouldn’t even let me see her because her overall health condition was critical. And the other night, I finally got the call that she’s gone.” Her fingers trembled. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye...and my own grandmother didn’t know who I was in my final conversation with her.”

Suddenly, her teary phone conversation and unwillingness to be left alone made sense. But their exchange had happened on another world line, so Yato chose not to mention it.

Instead, he veered the conversation back to business. “So you want to send a D-Mail to her and tell her goodbye?”

Hiyori shook her head. “Not exactly. See, my brother dropped out of medical school years ago to become an artist. But I think if I convinced him to stay and get his degree, he’d have been able to take care of my grandma over these years. She’d be in better shape.”

“Hiyori...,” Yato began. She held up a hand.

“If I had more time...just a little more time to perfect my research on memory, I could help her. My whole idea was inspired by her and others like her.”

Yato bit his lip. “Do you know when your brother dropped out of medical school?” As he asked, he spread out a sheet of paper on the coffee table.

“Not the exact date, but I can tell you it was around April, three years ago. 2015.” Yato jotted that down.

“Would you happen to know _why_ your brother dropped out?”

“If I had to guess I’d say it was the pressure my parents put on him.” She shrugged halfheartedly. “It was always about getting him to carry on the family business. After a while it got to him. It’d get to anyone.”

Yukine’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeesh.”

“They meant well!” she backtracked. “But he already had a lot to live up to, considering I skipped a bunch of grades.”

Yukine lifted his hand for a high five. “Hey, me too.” She returned the gesture, bowing her head.

Yato thought of his own incomplete education with a pang. Not a single one of them had had a normal life.

“Anyway,” he said. “How do you want to go about this?”

“I think if I remind him there are people counting on him, he’ll pull through.”

“Well, if you really think that’ll do it,” he said after thinking it over. “That seems like a big decision to make based on one message.”

Hiyori sighed. “I know. But what good am I if I don’t at least try?”

She spent some time typing up a message on her phone, fretting about the wording and trying to keep it within the character limit. Eventually she nodded and showed the draft to Yato and Yukine.

_Keep going_ , it said. _I believe in you._

“That seems to the point,” Yato remarked. “Think it’ll work?”

“I hope it does. Start the timer.”

Yukine calculated the number of seconds while Yato took Hiyori aside.

“I know you already said so,” he said, “but I need to ask again. Are you sure this is the right call?”

For once, she avoided his eyes. “It has to be.”

“Then I trust you.” Clearly Hiyori’s relationship with her grandma was a type he’d never gotten to have.

The timer started counting down, and with it, the electrical discharge shot sparks out of the microwave, causing all of them to jump.

Without a single moment of hesitation, Hiyori’s eyebrows drew together and she hit the button.

**_0.409603_ **

As the lab disappeared and reformed, Yato found he wasn’t as out of it as before. Time to see what was different.

“Hiyori,” he began.

She looked up from writing and raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

He paused for a few moments, trying to think of a delicate way to phrase his question. Nothing was coming to mind.

“Um...how’s your grandma?”

There was an audible smacking noise as Yukine slapped himself with the palm of his hand.

Meanwhile, Hiyori’s eyes were already shining with tears. “Why would you say something like that?”

 _Ah_ , he thought. Then, _Shit_.

“What kind of sick joke are you trying to play? Because whatever it is, it’s not funny.” She whirled around and packed up her things.

“Hiyori, wait—”

She was gone, and the door slammed shut behind her.

Yukine let out a low whistle. “You really did it that time.”

Yato rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Still. She confides in you about her grandma’s death, and then two days later you do...that? Cold, real cold.”

“We changed the world line again,” Yato grumbled. “Apparently I’m still the only one who can remember divergence. She was trying to _save_ her grandma. How was I supposed to know if she did without asking directly?”

“Subtlety, maybe?” Yukine had his chin in his hand and was raising an eyebrow. Such a smug grin for a sixteen-year-old to wear.

“Never heard of it.” Yato tried to call Hiyori, but her phone was off. Figures. Well, it wouldn’t do to explain himself over text anyway. He’d just have to wait for her to come by the lab again so he could tell her about the D-Mail she didn’t remember sending.

 _This time travel thing is really messing with my head_.

“Hey, this is weird.” Yukine’s voice broke into his thoughts.

He joined his friend at the computer. “What’s up?”

“I logged back into Yomi’s servers to see if I could dredge up some more data about lifters. And this subfolder was just hiding in plain sight.” He navigated through the menu, clicking on a file labeled _LHC_schematics_1.pdf_. It downloaded in the blink of an eye and opened to reveal an unfamiliar blueprint.

 _LARGE HADRON PARTICLE COLLIDER_ was written at the top of the page, including the “Classified” stamps Yato was used to seeing in their files from Yomi. To the side were some footnotes addressing what looked like plans for a lifter.

He took a step back. “You’re _sure_ no one knows you’re snooping.”

“Absolutely. In addition to getting senior login credentials, I’ve been going through a back door and I’m behind seven proxies. There’s no way they can trace us. It’s just...the way they’ve rearranged their information, it’s almost like they left out a welcome mat. Not to mention our connection speed is practically in real time.” Yukine’s frown deepened as he scrolled through the subfolder.

“So you’re saying...it’s like they _want_ us to find this stuff.”

“Seems that way. But look, you said it yourself. We’re missing vital information. We won’t be able to beat them at their game unless we borrow a few of their rules.” Yukine pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna let Hiyori know. She can come look at this first thing tomorrow.”

“I don’t like this,” Yato muttered. He stepped to the window, but it displayed the same darkened street as always. He snapped the shutters closed, then sat back down on the couch.

* * *

The next morning, Yato woke at what he felt was an absurdly early hour, and opened his phone to make sure. An unread message from Hiyori was sitting in his inbox with a timestamp of twenty minutes ago.

_Omw with a friend. That ok?_

There was a knock at the front door. Yato stirred, trying to untangle himself from the mess of sheets, then fell onto the floor.

“Owwwww,” he mumbled, rubbing a sore spot on his head.

Yukine was curled up in his futon, unmoved by the noise. Typical. That kid could sleep through anything.

Yato swung open the door mid-yawn, unsurprised to see Hiyori already dressed and looking very alert.

“Morning,” she said, taking in his rumpled T-shirt and boxers. “Is it too early?”

“A bit, yeah.” He opened the door a bit wider, catching a glimpse of the “friend” behind her. Tall, slender figure, long silvery-blonde hair—

“Oh _hell_ no.” He tried to shut the door, but she stuck her foot out.

“I remember you,” said Bishamon. “You were very rude for the ten minutes of my lecture you attended.”

“You _know_ each other?” Hiyori was glancing between them.

Yato sighed, then opened the door back up. “Unfortunately. Come on in.”

Hiyori hopped up the stairs, trailing the scent of perfume behind her. Bishamon followed more slowly, shooting him a glare.

Hiyori was already talking about the tests she wanted to run under Bishamon’s supervision, heedless of Yukine’s faint snores. “Viina-san is a renowned particle physicist, you know. She’ll help us with the particle collider diagnostics—Yukine told me about that last night. Then—”

Yato held up a hand. “Slow down there. I just woke up. In fact, you woke me up. First we need to get this lazybones up, get dressed, and then we all go out to breakfast or something, and _then_ you can run amok with testing. Okay?”

Hiyori exhaled and stilled herself. “You’re right. We can’t slip up.”

“Exactly.” Yato leaned in to shake Yukine’s shoulder. “Glad you’re getting the picture.”

* * *

At a nearby diner, Hiyori and Bishamon sat across from Yato and Yukine, Yato noting with displeasure he was expected to sit facing this woman who had at least half a head on him.

The others ordered the miso soup and rice ball set, while Yato, remembering Kofuku’s booby-trapped onigiri, opted for an omelet.

Hiyori was making plenty of conversation with the other two, but only talking to him when necessary. It made Yato more uncomfortable than he would have liked; he’d have to get her alone later and apologize for the line he didn’t know he had crossed.

Meanwhile, Yukine, to his credit, was handling conversation rather well for someone only on his second cup of coffee.

“Hey,” Yato said, knocking him on the head, “keep drinking that stuff and you’ll stunt your growth.”

“Keep talking and I’ll stunt yours.”

Hiyori burst out laughing at that, and even Bishamon cracked a smile.

“Your kid has spunk. I like that,” she said.

“I’m not his—”

“Yeah, he’s my kid.” Yato elbowed him playfully. “I call him my hostage.”

“Don't say that in public,” he whined.

“You seem to get along very well. But...rather young to be a father, no?” Bishamon tilted her head to the side; her eyes were piercing.

“I’m twenty,” said Yato at the same time as Yukine interjected, “I’m adopted.”

“I...see.”

Bishamon looked like she was about to ask something else, but Hiyori broke in with, “Do you have any family, Viina-san?”

“Just Viina is fine. And no, none that I’m close to. Well...there is someone.” She was gazing off into the distance now, a diced melon halfway in the air to her lips. “My best friend. Kazuma.”

Hiyori’s eyes grew huge. “Are you…?”

“Are we what?”

“You know...dating?”

She gave a short laugh. “No! We’re just very good friends.”

At that moment, Yato was willing to bet a very large amount of money the other fellow was massively interested in her. But he didn’t need to be on Hiyori’s bad side any more than he already was, so he kept quiet.

* * *

After breakfast, Hiyori was back to business as usual as she gave Bishamon a tour of the lab.

“So what exactly do you need my help for?” she asked. “Hiyori was rather secretive over the phone.”

“We have some data we’d like you to take a look at.” As he said this, Yukine swung himself back into his chair and opened up the virtual database he’d compiled both from Yomi’s servers as well as Yato’s stolen flash drive. “It concerns a particle collider. What can you tell us about those?”

Bishamon slid a headband over her curtain of hair and leaned in. “I can tell you many things. But for a crash course, a particle collider’s main duty is to bombard hydrogen atoms with microwaves, causing the protons to accelerate to nearly the speed of light over a period of about 45 minutes. At their final speed, they move at about 299,792,455 meters per second, 3 meters per second short. As far as the LHC is concerned.”

“Nothing we couldn’t learn from Google,” Yato muttered. “Can you make it simpler to understand?”

“LHC make proton go boom,” she snapped. “That simple enough for you?”

“This is the file I have on hand. We’re trying to compare our device to this.” Yukine opened up the blueprints they’d looked at last night.

Bishamon stiffened. “This is the LHC in France, the biggest particle collider in the world. Not to mention, its schematics are totally classified. How did you get access to this?”

Yato, Yukine, and Hiyori exchanged guilty glances.

“I, uh, sorta used to work for them,” Yato volunteered.

Bishamon went silent for a long moment, staring at his dirty tracksuit and bedhead. He fidgeted but refused to break eye contact.

“ _You_ used to work for them.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Who is ‘them,’ exactly?”

“Can we argue about this later?” Hiyori said, looking between both of them. “I thought you said you were in a hurry.”

Bishamon gave Yato another glare. “Promise me that there is no illicit activity going on here.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” _I doubt such laws even exist yet._

“...Very well.”

With the help of the whiteboard, Bishamon illustrated the relationships between the LHC’s rings. Over a period of slightly less than 17 seconds, the particle beams were accelerated by various linear accelerators, then added to the LHC’s huge main body, where magnets superchilled to nearly absolute zero pulled the protons to exponentially higher speeds in opposite directions before colliding them in four separate locations.

“In theory, this is to replicate similar circumstances to the Big Bang and figure out the origins of our own universe,” she explained. “But it’s said in certain conspiracy circles that the LHC can serve more nefarious purposes.”

“Such as…?” Hiyori prompted.

“Creating micro black holes. If you collide these proton beams about 10 billion times per second, it’s theorized there would be enough energy to create one. It would only last for a few seconds, however.”

A palpable shudder rippled through the room.

“I hate to break it to you, but that’s not an urban legend. Yomi, under CERN, is most definitely appropriating the LHC to create micro black holes,” said Yato.

Bishamon’s eyebrows arched. “And you know this…”

“I told you, I used to work for them.” He folded his arms, feeling like a sulking child. “Make no mistake, they’ve got an incomplete time machine.”

Bishamon sat at the table, eyes wide. “A time machine….”

“It’s been theorized that when matter passes through a black hole, even a microscopic one, the gravity concentration switches the location of time and space so that you can move freely through time but not space.” Yato rolled his eyes to the ceiling, tired of repeating himself. “But the subject gets crushed by gravity instead of traveling through time. They need something called a lifter to keep the singularity open, but CERN hasn’t found a working one yet. A side effect of their experiments is people turning up dead at weird points in history.”

“These are serious accusations,” Bishamon said. “Are you absolutely—”

“ _Yes_. We have the documentation to back it up.”

Bishamon looked over at Hiyori, who nodded. She turned back to Yato. “What exactly are you hoping to accomplish with the information I provide?”

“At the very least, beat them at their own game.” He pointed to the microwave. “We have a little machine of our own. It may not be super complex, but it can send messages back in time. We’re just not quite sure how yet. There’s a lifter we can’t find.”

“And you need me to help you understand it,” she surmised. “Very well then, I accept your offer.”

Hiyori clapped her hands. “Thank you!”

“Wait, I’m not done,” said Bishamon. “I have conditions. Namely, that you let me try out your contraption for myself.”

She and Yato stared at each other.

“Fine. I’ll allow it, so long as you help us first.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

She took it. “Deal.”

* * *

A couple of hours later, Bishamon was left tinkering with Yukine on dissecting exactly how they could set up a full link to the LHC, which left Hiyori and Yato on lunch duty. They headed down the street, waving to a smiling Daikoku who was sweeping the store just to give him something to do. As it turned out, CRT monitors weren’t exactly a hot commodity outside of a few very devoted classic enthusiasts. It didn’t help that the store owner had the build of an ex-yakuza member.

Yato thought all of these things in a rapid few seconds while he tried to catch Hiyori’s eye. She stared ahead.

“So, uh, I was thinking of getting us kebabs for lunch.”

“That’s fine with me,” she said.

Yato groaned and put his hands on his lower back, stretching. “Hiyori, look. I didn’t mean anything by what I said yesterday. I hope you know that.”

“I know.” She sighed. “It’s just...it’s been hard.”

“Which is why I’m talking to you now,” he reminded her. “We sent another D-Mail, or rather, you did.”

“What did it say?”

“You were hoping to have more time with your grandmother. But it seems like it didn’t work. I’m sorry.” He hesitated a moment, then patted her shoulder. She reached up to grab his hand.

“Thank you. I know you weren’t trying to hurt my feelings.” She finally met his eyes with a sad smile.

He took his hand off her shoulder, bringing hers with it. They walked off, hand in hand.

* * *

“Kebabs! Get your kebabs here!” Yato announced, holding open the door with his foot. He and Hiyori were weighed down with bags containing various kebabs—the meal was on Bishamon, who had thrown him a wad of cash and admonished him not to buy what she called “convenience store crap.”

“Finally!” Yukine exclaimed. “I was beginning to think you two got lost.”

“The restaurant took forever,” said Hiyori, setting her load down on the dining room table. Yato followed suit with his bags and the drink carton. “Anyway, thank you for the food.”

Bishamon pawed through the bags to find hers. “It was my pleasure.”

Yato gave her a few minutes, then asked, “Why Bishamon?”

“It’s a pen name,” Hiyori interjected. “Her real name is Viina, like I’ve been calling her.”

“So why the secrecy?”

“That ties directly into why I’m interested in sending a message of my own.” Bishamon chewed and swallowed. “A few years ago, I got a paper of mine published in a journal, much like you, Hiyori. Since then I’ve been well-regarded as a presence in the scientific community at large. However, it was not always that way.”

“What do you mean?” Hiyori asked.

“For a long time, no one respected me. It was hard to get people to even take a word of what I said seriously.” She paused to take a big bite out of the medium-rare steak.

Thinking back to her half-plagiarized time travel lecture, Yato wondered how credible of a source she really was.

“However, that changed, thanks to the friend I mentioned earlier, Kazuma.” Bishamon smiled again, and again it occurred to Yato that it was an unconscious reaction. “He’s always had my best interests at heart, but he can be...overprotective.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over their meal while she sipped her drink.

“In what way?” Yukine finally broke the silence, nibbling on the wooden stick.

“I won’t go into details, but what’s important is that he got me a name in the field. It’s not that I don’t appreciate his actions, but I think I could have done just fine without him.” Bishamon sat back. “The food was good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Yato. “So you want to tell Kazuma to...cool it with helping you?”

“Exactly.”

Yato sighed. “Just let me look at the LHC commands before you send it, just so I know you’re not lying about helping.”

“Oh, you’ll have time to look those over.” Bishamon glanced at her watch. “I must get going soon, but I’ll be back here tomorrow around midday to send the message.”

Yato groaned at the thought of having to put up with her again, but waved her off. “Fine.”

* * *

The next day, she was back, phone in hand and looking harried. “Let’s get this over with quickly.”

Yato had double-checked the LHC commands the previous night, confirming they were all correct. It seemed they had a fiber-optic connection stretching all the way to France, and the implications were worrisome if not outright terrifying. But since it seemed like they were about to change the world line again, Yato was hoping to jump a little farther from the truth.

“Lemme just see what you’re writing.” He reached for her phone and she yanked it out of his face so quickly a burred afterimage hung in the air for a second.

“Um—”

“Please do not touch my things,” Bishamon growled, possibly looking even more pissed off than her usual expression. She swept inside and ordered a startled Hiyori to set the timer for six years prior.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Yato demanded. “I need to know what you’re sending. Those are the conditions.”

“You already _know_ what I’m telling him. Just not the specific wording. Now let’s get this over with. I have somewhere to be.” The panicked glint in her eye was well concealed, but Yato could tell she wasn’t lying.

“Start it.” He waved a hand at Hiyori.

The timer started, electrical discharge ricocheted around the room, and Bishamon looked at her phone with uneasiness before hitting the button.

**_0.337187_ **

“Remind me why you dragged me all the way out here in this heat,” Yukine groaned. He and Yato were fighting their way through the thick crowds clustered by the Akihabara radio station. Just another day where otaku flooded the streets to get their fix of cat maids, anime merch, or miscellaneous electronics parts.

Yato had to agree he’d rather be back at the lab. Though the lack of air conditioning was a sore blow, at least it was quiet there. Here the streets rang with phone chatter and the calls of cat maids passing out flyers. A particularly persistent one shoved a card into his hands despite his refusal to make eye contact—a free bubble tea if he whispered the secret code word at the entrance! He let the card flutter to the ground behind him. He didn’t care much for bubble tea, and cat maid cafes were low on his list of priorities at the moment.

Bishamon was weighing on his mind. In the three days since she’d sent her D-Mail, she hadn’t been to the lab. In fact, Hiyori and Yukine had no idea who she was. He’d searched her name online, but no scientific papers had come up. In this world line, she appeared to be no one of note.

Yato didn’t feel like her message had erased her existence entirely, though. At least, he very much hoped not. To ease his mind, he kept venturing out into Akiba during rush hour, hoping to at least catch a passing glance. But so far, all he was getting for his troubles was a sunburned neck and heatstroke. He touched the back of his neck gingerly. Still burning up.

_Note to self: tie a handkerchief around there or something._

Despite Yukine’s complaining, he was here by choice. He could tell Yato was on edge about something, but hadn’t pried yet. Yato didn’t want to say anything until he’d confirmed Bishamon’s existence or lack thereof. No need to confuse everyone.

It seemed like today would be another fruitless search. They turned around past the radio station were starting on the long way to the lab when yet another cat maid with a ridiculous brown bun got up in Yato’s face. She was so close he felt like her fake eyelashes were stabbing his cheeks.

“Hey, meowster!” she giggled, shoving a flyer into his hands. “We’ve got a great show tonight! Make sure to check us out, ’kay?”

Yato sighed. “No thank you, I don’t want—” He broke off and turned the paper over several times. Either he was seeing things, or it advertised War Goddess Bishamon’s Grand Return that very night.

His heart rate increased. Could it be? At the very least, it was worth checking out.

Yukine peered over his shoulder. “What? It’s just another piece of garbage. They should really think of the trees—”

“Excuse me, miss?” Yato waved the cat maid back down from where she’d turned to pounce on an unsuspecting tourist couple.

She whirled to face him after she’d accosted them too, blinking big eyes at him. “Nya?”

Yato fought the grimace threatening to hijack his facial functions. “Could you tell me where your cafe is? I’d like to go to this ‘Grand Return’ thing.”

She clapped her manicured pink nails together. “Oh, absolutely! You’ll have a great time, I promise! So our address is right here—” she indicated a footnote on the flyer— “and you can get there by heading straight this way and making a right at that doujin shop.” She put her hand on his shoulder and drew uncomfortably close, touching his cheek to turn him in the right direction. “We’re on the second floor, and it’s a 600 yen entry fee, plus another 600 every hour you’re there. Food price not included. Got all that, meowster?”

Yato nodded and ducked out from under her arm. “Yep. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem, nya!” she called after him. “Send Bisha my love!”

“What was that all about?” Yukine asked after they’d gotten out of earshot. “Why are we going to a maid cafe?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Yato said. “She may be at this cafe. You don’t have to come, though.”

“Nah, I’ll come,” Yukine decided. “They’ll have A/C, and besides, this coupon is good for a buy one, get one free beverage. A cold drink would be great right about now.”

“Yeah.” They turned right at the doujin shop and followed the neon pink sign up the stairs, where yet another cat-eared maid was grinning at the entrance.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Yukine muttered behind him. “So...much...pink.”

“Welcome home, meowsters!” the girl called. This one had long, wavy red hair and sharp eyebrows. “Table for two?”

“Yes, please. And we have this coupon—” Yato elbowed Yukine, who held it out with shaking hands.

“Ooh, nya?” She took it. “You’re just in time for our happy hour! What’ll it be?”

They ordered a bubble tea for Yukine and an iced coffee for Yato and took seats at a table in the back. It had a clear line of sight to the stage, where yet more cat maids were setting up for a show of some kind.

Yato really hoped that this was the same Bishamon performing, because otherwise he’d just wasted 2000 yen and what felt like three years off his lifespan.

“Hiyori would hate it here,” Yukine commented. He swirled his (very pink) tea around. “At least the drinks aren’t bad.”

“Pink is sort of her color, though.” Yato was distracted, scanning the curtain at the back of the stage for any signs of the performer. One look was all he needed, and then they could get the hell out.

“Yeah, but she _so_ wouldn’t be into the cutesy maid nonsense. I can hardly stand it. Say, who is this person you’re looking for, anyway?”

Yato tapped his fingers on the table. “Um, I’ll tell you later. I think the show’s about to start.” They turned their attention to the stage, where one of the waitresses leaned into the microphone. “Test, test.”

Someone off to the side fiddled with a sound board, then flashed her a thumbs-up.

“Hello and welcome, everyone!” the waitress chirped. Her pink, curly wig nearly covered her face, and she had a bow perched on her cat ears. “I hope you’re all ready to have some fun!” She winked at the guy sitting at the front table, who had glasses, brown hair, and looked like every other lonely otaku who pretended the maids were his waifus.

“Our lovely Bishamon has been on hiatus, but I know you’re all ready to witness her grand return, so without further ado! Here! She! Is!” She threw up her hand and the curtain drew back to reveal a Bishamon very similar to the one Yato knew. Same silvery-blonde hair and big rack, now decked out in a frilly maid dress with cat ears to match. Despite the cute outfit, her eyes glared out from under furrowed brows, drilling holes into anyone they made contact with.

He shuddered. Somehow, that was so _not_ her look. And another part of him had been hoping that the name was just coincidence, but now he could see that, for one reason or another, the relatively well-respected particle physicist he remembered was now a cat maid who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Is that who you were looking for?” Yukine asked. Paralyzed, Yato nodded. Some sugary, upbeat vocaloid song started up, and Bishamon and a few of her maids started to dance, lip-syncing as they did. Even though he’d gotten the answer he needed, he couldn’t look away.

The song finished and she gave a deep bow, leaning down and blowing a kiss into the crowd. Yato followed the direction of her gaze to see that same brown-haired guy with glasses. Was that Kazuma? Was she _flirting_ with him?

The applause had barely died down when another, equally infuriating song played and the maids resumed their mesmerizing dance. Yato tried to make eye contact, but Bishamon’s glare passed right over him.

Yukine, meanwhile, slurped down the last of his drink and poked Yato’s arm. “Can we go? Please? It stinks in here.”

Yato tore his eyes away from the spectacle. “Yeah.” He downed the rest of his iced coffee and left, one question bouncing around his head as Yukine led them back to the lab in silence: _What happened to you?_

* * *

Hiyori raised her eyebrows at them. “Well? Was your walk productive?”

“Don’t ask,” Yato groaned, sinking onto the couch and rubbing his eyes.

“We found Yato’s girlfriend,” Yukine supplied, “but I don’t think she was who he had in mind.”

“Girlfriend?” Hiyori was frowning now.

“Not my girlfriend. Just someone I was looking for. She’s around, but she’s...different.” Yato flapped his hands around, trying to mimic the shape of her maid outfit.

“In what way?”

“She’s the leader of a gang of cat maids now. Don’t worry, it doesn’t make sense to me either.” Yukine flopped into the armchair, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “ _Man_ , I miss that air conditioning. I don’t miss the perfume stench, though.”

“Well, _my_ time was a little more eventful,” Hiyori said. “Remember how we figured out we must have a lifter, but we don’t know what it could be?”

Yato leaned forward. “Did you find it?”

“Possibly. I’ve been sending you dozens of D-Mails all evening, and they stopped when Daikoku closed up shop at 9PM. I thought it was a weird coincidence, so then I did some research. CRT monitors work by beaming electrons at the screen’s phosphor layer to make a picture. What if the big one downstairs is redirecting some electrons our way and stabilizing the whole thing?” She looked eagerly at him.

He tilted his head. “The 42-inch? I mean, I _guess_ it could be the lifter. That sounds so unlikely, though.”

“I suppose we can keep looking for a definitive answer,” Hiyori said as she sat at the table. “But now that we know what our lifter could be, and we have remote access to the LHC, we could take this to the next step.”

Both Yato and Yukine leaned forward. “The next step?” Yukine asked.

Hiyori pulled the whiteboard she’d been scrawling on over to them. “Here, look at this.”

Yato squinted down at the board, trying to make sense of the brainstorming crammed into every square inch of it. “What am I looking at?”

“My paper that got published? It was called ‘Analysis of Memory-Related Nerve Impulses in the Temporal Lobe.’ Basically, by combining your knowledge of particle physics with mine of the human brain, I think I’ve cracked a crucial step in getting us to a fully developed time machine.” Hiyori pointed at her temple. “Instead of physically sending a _person_ back in time, what if we sent their memories? After all, memories are just data, right?”

Yato stared at her, stunned. “You could do that?”

“Sure. It wouldn’t be super sophisticated, but if you gathered these parts for me, I could probably have it set up after a couple of all-nighters.” She passed him a slip of paper. At a passing glance, they all seemed to be fairly rudimentary electronic parts he could find at any store. Thankfully they were in Akiba of all places.

“Yukine, think you can find these?” He passed the list off to his assistant, who read through it with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I should be able to grab all these tomorrow morning when the shops reopen.”

* * *

True to his word, at 10AM sharp the following morning Yukine got dressed and threw a pillow at Yato to get his attention.

“What?” Yato shouted, startled and still sleepy. Hiyori laughed.

“I need your card, dumbass.”

Yato fished it out of his wallet; Yukine stretched out his hand. Yato yanked it back at the last second. “ _Don’t_ buy more junk. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Yukine snatched the card away. “I’ll make sure to build up your credit with tons of porn mags and hentai games.”

“Nice try, I know you’re not eighteen yet.”

“It was worth a shot.” Yukine put on his shoes and headed out, seemingly as fired up as Hiyori. He was gone in another minute, and Hiyori and Yato were left alone in the apartment.

“So. Time travel, huh?” Yato said to break the silence.

“It’s not bona fide time travel, more of a consciousness transfer,” she explained. “But yes, I think if we combine my research with your microwave we can make something truly special.”

“I could hug you right now,” he said softly. “May I hug you?”

She smirked at him and pointed to the tiny bathroom. “Shower first, please.”

He yanked his shirt off obligingly and headed to the shower. They had no hot water, which suited him just fine in the summer months. The last couple of winters, though...He shivered at the thought and started plotting how he could invent a water heater that worked remotely like the Coo Phone (Name TBA) had meant to. Perhaps if he started soon, he’d have it done before the weather started to change.

Hiyori turned her back on his shirtless body. “A-anyway. If I’ve got this right, we can send someone—that is, their memories—back in time a few hours. All you’ll need to retrieve them is a phone. So basically, it’s very limited, and mostly theoretical, but I’m excited to start building this thing. I think we could do a whole lot more with it than just what we’ve been doing with D-Mail.”

Yato stuck his head out of the shower. “You’re a genius, Hiyori. Don’t know if I’ve made it clear before, but you are and I’m lost without you.”

Hiyori ducked her head. “Are you naked? Please don’t make me see you naked.”

“Aww, is someone embarrassed?”

She pressed her arms over her face, keeping her back turned firmly away. “Shut up and shower.”

Yato shrugged and stepped back into the shower, humming as he did so. He could practically hear the heat sizzling on Hiyori’s skin in the next room; he let out a soft cackle and transitioned to singing his heart out.

They had a new lead. Perhaps their luck was starting to turn after all.

* * *

Yato awoke to an unfamiliar landscape. He stared around, but it was all barren as far as the eye could see. He knew he was looking at the earth millions of years ago, and had time-traveled too far and gotten stuck here.

Yukine turned to look at him, sitting on the ground an unfathomable distance away. They made eye contact, then his friend smiled and turned to fragments in a nonexistent wind.

Yato tried to step forward, but his feet were locked in place. He tried to call for help, but choked on his own breath. He tried to turn around, but everything looked the same. There was nowhere to go, no air to breathe, he couldn’t move—

* * *

“I’m done!” Hiyori’s yelp startled Yato out of his dream. He checked the wall clock. Broken. He pulled out his phone. Past two in the afternoon.

“Whazzat?” he mumbled, straightening up. Somehow he’d gotten his face pressed into the couch cushion and could feel the mark of the inseam on his face. Yukine was seated at the computer as always, though his hands weren’t moving. Yato tried to think of when they’d last gotten a proper night of sleep. Too long, he figured. If he couldn’t remember, that was already a bad sign.

“I think I’m done!” Hiyori exclaimed. “Uh, with the time-leap machine. I still need to configure and test it, but everything’s connected and showing up green.”

Yato rubbed the sleep away from his eyes and joined her at the computer table. A set of headphones with a few extra gadgets added was hooked up to the Coo Phone (Name TBA). It had taken Hiyori three straight days.

“Well done,” he said. “So you think it works?”

Hiyori nodded. “It’s only a prototype, but it should be good to go.”

They all paused and looked down at it with apprehension.

“I think...we may have created a monster here,” Hiyori said. “See...this is the kind of thing where we need a live test subject to confirm if it’s successful. A _human_ test subject.” The words weighed heavily on all of them.

“Yato, what are we gonna do with this?” Yukine was wide-eyed, fear lighting his gaze.

Yato hesitated for a few moments. They were the first humans in history that had made a working time machine. But if his father so much as caught a whiff of this, it was all over.

“We won’t use it. We’ll go public with our findings and let someone else unravel the ethics.” If millions of people had access to their research, his father wouldn’t be able to wipe them all out.

Yukine breathed a visible sigh of relief; Hiyori nodded solemnly.

“I think that’s for the best,” she said. “As much as I want to see if it does work.”

“No, I understand. It’s valid to want to know if your efforts were successful. But even without your upgrades, the Coo Phone (Name TBA) on its own is worth a fortune.” He gave it a fond pat.

“I’m glad we’re not using it, though,” Yukine murmured.

“I agree,” said Yato, wrapping an arm around Hiyori. “It’s thanks to our resident genius girl that we have a priceless invention on our hands.”

Hiyori was blushing like crazy again; he pretended not to notice. “Th-thank you both for believing in me. I care about you a lot as my friends, and—wow, it’s really hot in here.” She ducked out from under Yato’s arm and opened the window, taking in a big breath of the only slightly less stifling air.

“That excuse again?” Yato snickered.

“How much would it cost to get the air conditioning fixed, you think? Neurotoxin or not, it can’t be too comfortable.” Hiyori turned back to face the boys, her hair blowing in the slight breeze. Yato felt an unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“More than I’m willing to pay,” he said, and turned his back to focus on the Coo Phone (Name TBA). Yukine followed him, taking his usual seat in front of the computer. He squinted at the CRT monitor as it booted up, then slapped its side. The picture solidified. The links to the time-leap machine were all showing up green.

“All yours, Hiyori,” he said, gesturing to the equipment. Hiyori darted over, her face lit up like a child’s on Christmas.

Oh, right—she’d be back in America by then. Yato wondered what would happen if he invited her over for the holidays. He wasn’t sure which answer she would give, nor which one would make him feel worse.

The day slipped away as she fine-tuned the settings. There wasn’t much Yato and Yukine could do to help, as this was all Hiyori’s technology, so they sat around idly.

With nothing to do and the big break in their inventing, Yato felt his paranoia worsening—every silver flash was an illegal gun barrel, every movement in the shadows was his father’s black robe coming to collect his due.

Yato sighed and turned away from the window. If he could settle down long enough for a full night of sleep, he probably wouldn’t be so wired.

He had to get his mind off of everything somehow, he decided, and turned to face his friends. “We can book a press conference tomorrow. But first, we’re missing one crucial component to this whole thing.”

Hiyori looked puzzled. “What? I thought I had everything...”

“A celebratory dinner!”

Her face lit up. “Oh! Yes, of course!”

As the three of them went to the nearest grocery store and started loading up on ingredients for hotpot, they fell into chitchat about the weather—thankfully, it hadn’t been quite so hot that day. Perhaps fall was getting an early start? It’d be nice for the weather to relax a little before school started back up.

Hiyori asked Yukine about his classes, and groaned in all the right places when he explained his “withholding my diploma” situation. She was the perfect listener, who seemed genuinely interested in everything he had to say and laughed on cue. Yukine’s retellings grew more and more animated thanks to her attentiveness, which in turn spurred more giggles from her.

Yato looked at them, and his chest grew warm. In a brief moment of shock, he realized how much he wanted to stay in that moment, frozen forever, no worries or lingering feelings hanging over his shoulders. They could simply be.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” Hiyori called. She let out a laugh that carried across the floor to him. “Spaced out again?”

Yukine rolled his eyes. “Trust me, he’s always doing this. I don’t think he remembers where he is half the time.”

Yato grinned and jogged to catch up. “Yeah. What would I do without you two to reel me in?”

Yukine shook his head and turned to help Hiyori load the groceries onto the belt.

Things could hardly be going better for them. Even so, Yato couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that their time was running out.

* * *

After paying for the groceries and walking back to the lab, they decided they weren’t hungry yet. Yukine split off to do some personal shopping, while Hiyori headed back to her hotel to take a shower. Yato was equal parts relieved and worried that they were leaving him alone for a bit. He pulled out his phone and stared at his wallpaper, dreading a message that never came.

A cold drop of sweat slid down his neck. He felt like he was being watched. Sliding sideways to the window, he flicked the blinds down just in case. And took a peek at the street below. Not a soul.

He sat back on the couch, breathing hard. There was nothing. Just his paranoia acting up again. There was no way his father knew just how far his research had taken him. He slid his phone back into his pocket and sat there, thinking of everything and nothing until keys turned in the lock. Unable to stop his body from tensing, Yato waited. But it was just Yukine getting back from his shopping.

“Hey,” he said, sparing Yato only a glance as he went into the bathroom. Not trusting himself to speak, Yato lifted a hand in reply.

Yukine rejoined him a minute later, motioning him to scoot over on the couch. “Do you know when Hiyori will be back?” he asked.

“Not sure. Probably soon.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised she beat me back, though.”

“Maybe she’s putting on makeup or something.”

Yukine snorted. “Why would she put on makeup for a hotpot party?”

“I dunno, because it’s a special occasion or something?” Having Yukine around was already improving his mood. Yato shoved thoughts of his father to the back of his mind.

“You really don’t know girls at all, do you?”

Yato raised an eyebrow. “What, and you do?”

“Never said that.” Yukine fell silent for a moment, then glanced at Yato out of the corners of his eyes. Nervous. About to express an opinion.

“Hey, Yato?” he said at last. “You know something? I’m...really glad we’re not using the time-leap machine.”

Yato nodded. He’d have liked to confirm it worked, but he trusted Hiyori’s work. Besides, the Coo Phone (Name TBA) alone was going to earn them millions, maybe even billions in patents. Possibly a Nobel Prize.

“Messing with time...should not be left up to us.” Yato laughed. “Three kids and their microwave deciding the future? Could you imagine?”

Yukine grinned back. “You know, we should probably come up with an actual name instead of just ‘Coo Phone (Name TBA)’ before we sell it off.”

“We should. We’ll discuss that over dinner. So what are you gonna do with your share of the money?”

Yukine tilted his head to the side. “Hmm, haven’t really thought about it yet. Buy myself a new computer, maybe? And an infinite supply of snacks?”

 _What a child_. “Well, _I’m_ gonna buy a penthouse. And I’ll hire a butler to cater to all my needs. And throw wild parties every weekend.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought about it a lot.”

“I have...Say, are you gonna buy your own place too?” Yato glanced sidelong at his friend. For some reason, Yukine’s ears had turned red.

“Am I not invited to keep staying with you?”

Yato blinked. Then blinked again. Finally the words sunk in.

“I mean. Yes? But...you’d keep living with me by _choice?_ ”

Looking like he wanted to disappear, Yukine nodded. Yato was trying to find the words to express how much his heart was melting when a soft knock sounded at the door.

“Ah, there she is.” He stood up to answer it. “Iki-san! So glad you could join us.”

Hiyori beamed. “Glad I could make it. Are you boys feeling hungry yet? I think I can handle everything as far as the food goes.”

“Nonsense! I can help!”

“I mean, if you really want to I can’t stop you…” Hiyori raised her eyebrows, clearly wondering if his cooking was as bad as his inventing.

“I’ll cut up the vegetables!” he offered. “You can’t screw that up, right?”

“Well, I guess not.”

She instructed him on how she wanted them sliced and set to work herself, humming. Meanwhile, Yukine pulled out a handheld gaming device and started fiddling around, feet kicked up onto the couch.

“You’re doing the dishes when we’re done, you know,” Yato called. Yukine stuck out his tongue in response.

Hiyori started slicing the meat. “Yukine, I’ve been meaning to ask—do you watch RaiNet? I noticed you play the game a lot.”

He lifted his head. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I do. I actually got into the show before the games.”

“It’s all the rage here, huh? I barely heard about it when I was in America. Except for when I checked Japanese message boards.” She frowned at a tough piece of beef, then raised her eyebrows at Yato as if to say, _What are you looking at? Get back to work_.

Yukine nodded. “Yeah, it’s so popular here you could probably live off the merch alone. It’s good, though. I like it.”

“It seems good from what I’ve seen. Only watched the first couple of episodes, though.”

“Oh, wait until the second season. That’s when it gets _really_ good, I think.”

Yato’s eyes were about rolling back into his skull from the mundanity of this exchange. “You know what, RaiNet is really not all that great—”

“Do _not_ start that,” Yukine warned. “Hiyori, don’t ask him what he thinks of RaiNet. We’d be here for three hours otherwise. And all of his opinions are bad.”

“What don’t you like about it?” she asked innocently.

“It’s such a cash grab—” he began, only for Yukine’s loud, toneless singing of the anime opening to drown him out. “Way to be mature.”

“I’m sixteen,” he retorted.

“Yeah, whatever.”

While they argued, the time passed swiftly. Yato finished chopping the vegetables without cutting his fingers, a feat he was quite proud of. He started boiling the noodles, closely watched by Hiyori. Meanwhile, she had sliced the meat paper-thin and was adding everything to the pressure cooker.

Yato leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction. “Smells good. I can’t wait to eat!”

“Nothing better than dinner you made with friends,” Hiyori agreed.

Yato set the bowls on the coffee table to cool and went to grab the hourglass they used as a timer when making cup ramen; it had three minutes on each turn.

He was halfway across the living room when the TV, turned to a news channel for background noise, suddenly displayed an emergency bulletin accompanied by a harsh beep.

_Breaking: Terrorist bomb threat—Akihabara Station. Yamanote, Sobu, and Keihin-Tohoku lines suspended until further notice._

Hiyori and Yukine were on their feet immediately, staring at the TV. The three of them exchanged nervous glances. A bomb threat? In Akiba?

Yato nervously glanced toward the double-locked front door, still clutching the hourglass. Was he imagining it, but were footsteps, and a lot of them at that, pounding down the street outside?

The hourglass slipped from his fingers...

...and shattered on the floor.

All at once, time ground to a halt as Iki Hiyori found herself face to face with a gun barrel. Her spine went rigid; she stared cross-eyed at it, unable to look at anything else. She felt Yato and Yukine just at her sides, their bodies as stiff and trembling as hers was.

The half-dozen strangers filling their cozy lab were dressed as tourists, yet they all wore masks to cover their faces—a single eye undulating in the fluorescent light. Three held handguns, while the rest gripped assault rifles.

Hiyori couldn’t believe her eyes. Perhaps any moment now she’d wake up.

“Hands up!” one of them barked. “Do that, and no one gets hurt.”

One by one, all three of them complied and raised their hands to shoulder level.

They stood there for a few seconds, no one moving a muscle. The sound of slow footfalls echoed in the stairwell, and Hiyori risked tearing her eyes away from the gun at her forehead for a moment. Someone else was coming up. The leader of these strange people?

A tall man with tousled, dark hair entered the room, exhausted victory lighting his eyes. He wasn’t wearing a mask and leered at the helpless teenagers.

Hiyori finally caught a peek at Yato. His mouth was hanging open, and his eyes were wide. Terrified. Maybe the most out of all of them.

When the strange man opened his mouth, the voice that came out was smooth and melodic with a controlled lack of emotion.

“Well, well, well. Is this where you’ve been hiding all this time, Yaboku?”

Yato swayed on his feet and didn’t answer.

“I’ve come a long way to get you back, you know. The least you could do is say hello to your own father.”

The news came as less of a shock to Hiyori than she’d have expected—now that she looked closer, she could see the family resemblance. Unfortunately.

Yato’s father continued talking. “Well, I guess we’ll have plenty of time to chat on the way home.” He stepped back. “We only need my Yaboku and the Iki girl. Feel free to dispose of the boy, but if the others resist, shoot them too.”

Hiyori dug her voice out from somewhere in the floorboards and spoke. “What do you want with us?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I want your time machine, naturally. I thought you were a genius, Iki-san.”

“Why only me and Yato?” Her transparent stall for time was fooling nobody. But someone would come before anyone got hurt. The police—the government— _somebody—_

“You built the time machine, didn’t you? Really, this idiocy is starting to get on my nerves.”

Hiyori raised her chin and shot him her best defiant glare. “Then let Yukine go. He hasn’t done anything!”

Yato’s father rubbed his jaw, pretending to consider it for a moment. “Hmm. No. He knows too much. In any case, I’m tired. Let’s wrap this up quickly, shall we?”

On Hiyori’s left, Yukine was staring at the nearest gun with a vacant expression in his eyes. Like he couldn’t quite process what was happening yet.

A flash of movement on her right caught her eye. Yato charged past, hands reaching for his father.

“You son of a bitch—”

One of the masked men swung his rifle up, clipping Yato in the jaw. He dropped to the floor, face bloody.

_This isn’t real. This is all just a bad dream, and soon I’ll wake up, and we’ll be enjoying a meal together, and…._

Yato was struggling to his feet. Hiyori didn’t think she could move even if she wanted to.

All she could do was watch, cold fear gripping her entire body, as another of the men raised his gun and pointed it—

—right—

—at—

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered the silencers on each muzzle, yet the shot that fired was the loudest thing she’d ever heard.

Yukine fell, but he didn’t hit the floor. Yato caught him, staggering to his knees.

Suddenly heedless of all the guns pointed at them, Hiyori dropped to their side as well, but she didn’t need a medical degree to tell the wound was fatal.

The burning smell of gunpowder hit her nose first. Next was the blood.

_—thisisn’thappeningthisisn’thappeningthisisn’thappening—_

Her ears were ringing. Her brain had long since shut down.

_—someonesaveussomeonehelpsomeoneanyoneplease—_

A bloodstained hole in the center of that light blue shirt. Right over the heart. Yato’s hands were already covered in it.

He was shouting something. Dazed, she pulled herself together enough to listen.

“Hey—Yukine—hang in there!”

The high schooler’s eyes fluttered. His mouth opened the tiniest bit—the faintest word—

“ _Run._ ”

Yato gripped his hand. “I’m not leaving you! Open your eyes!”

Instead, Yukine’s eyes closed and his breathing slowed, and all Hiyori could do was stare numbly at him.

It was too late.

It was all too late.

“Hey. Wake up.” Yato’s childlike murmurs would have jolted Hiyori to tears had her conscious thought not slipped away along with her friend’s life _—no—don’t think like that—_

“Wake up, Yukine. Please.” His voice broke on the last word.

Nothing. Not so much as a twitch. Yukine was gone.

In another moment, a hypnotic calmness had washed over Yato’s face. He laid his friend’s body on the floor and slowly got to his feet.

Hiyori got a good look at his eyes then. There was nothing in them except rage.

In the instant before he charged to certain death, she shot to her feet, fighting the mind-numbing fear gripping her to grab his hand.

Yato tried to yank himself away, but she held on tight. “No! They’ll kill you too!”

The plurality of that statement rang in her ears. But Yato kept pulling. “So what?!”

“I won’t lose you!” She dug in her heels.

Yato’s father laughed, and the mocking sound was enough to give her somewhat of a grip on reality.

Hiyori’s eyes darted around the room, trying to latch onto something they could use to help them. The time-leap machine was all the way on the other side of the room. And all she could see was the smug grin on Yato’s father, the emotionless masks looming around them, and a forest of cold metal gun barrels.

_Focus. You can do this._

Then she saw it. On the wall, just to her left.

Hiyori opened her mouth, fixing her eyes on Yato’s father. “Yato.”

He glanced at her, then back down at Yukine, and stopped trying to pull himself free.

“Neurotoxin.”

Yato may as well have turned to stone. Did he understand?

“Dev.”

He gave a single nod.

“Go!”

Hiyori lunged for the thermostat and cranked it up, Yato’s failed turbocharge releasing a cloud of thick white steam into the air and filling the apartment in seconds.

Yato was dashing to the development room, Hiyori hot on his heels. It broke her heart to leave Yukine there, but there was nothing they could do for him.

Not with this outcome, anyway.

The time-leap machine sat next to the idling computer. They hadn’t confirmed whether it really worked. There were potential risks involved, but one look at Yato’s face told Hiyori he didn’t care.

It was life or death.

She entered the data to send him back to two hours ago, fingers flying across the keyboard. Behind them, Yato’s father and the men were coughing, trying to stumble around through the smokescreen. They had seconds.

A bullet whizzed by, grazing Yato’s arm and burying itself in the wall behind them.

_Time’s up._

Yato had already jammed the headphones onto his head, unconcerned with his bloodied shoulder. “Ready?”

Hiyori didn’t register the tears in her eyes until one fell on the keyboard. “I think so. But Yato, are you sure?!”

“Just do it!” he shouted back. “I’ll save him!”

Another shot coughed its way out of the silencer, narrowly missing them.

She hit the enter key, and electrical discharge started sparking through the air, piercing the steam.

Yato met her eyes one last time. “Hiyori, thank you. I—”

A blinding, searing-hot pain erupted in Hiyori’s torso. Her vision went dark before she hit the floor, but Yato had already slipped into the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed Part 1! Parts 2 and 3 should be coming shortly.
> 
> Side note: The address Kofuku sent in her D-Mail is actually the address of Kodansha, aka the publisher of Noragami. Send your Adachitoka fanmail there!


	2. The Butterfly Effect

**Part 2: The Butterfly Effect**

**[8/20/18 17:48:03]**

The world melted away, then slowly reformed. Colors changed and went in and out of focus, and Yato found himself in the lab, holding his phone to his ear while sitting on the couch. He felt like he’d just woken up from a dream.

As his brain reached back into his memories, something clicked into place and a blinding headache split his head open. Yato tipped forward, clutching his temples. The pain faded into a dull ache after a few seconds.

A migraine? Come to think of it, his jaw and left shoulder felt sore too. But as soon as the thought occurred to him, the twinges disappeared. He rubbed his cheek, then his arm. Nothing wrong there.

Yato turned his hands from front to back, feeling a delayed reaction time. Had he really just taken a nap in the middle of the afternoon?

 _It was a nightmare...I think_. He tried to remember it, but only vague flashes came to him. He’d been in the lab. Hiyori and Yukine had been there. Not much else.

He sank back into the couch cushions with a sigh. Hadn’t Hiyori said something about going back to her hotel for a shower? And Yukine had left to check out the computer store. Or something.

 _Note to self: midday naps are very disorienting_.

He stretched, trying to recuperate. As he looked around again, he noticed the hotpot ingredients laid out on the countertop next to the tiny stove. Right...they were going to make food in celebration of their invention being completed...the time-leap machine!

Yato glanced over into the development room. The Coo Phone (Name TBA) and all its added gizmos were in their usual place, the headphones’ cord coiled up neatly next to the sleeping computer. _Why the sudden panic?_

He sat there in a daze for the next hour or so, until first Yukine and then Hiyori returned to the lab. Hiyori started humming a familiar tune while insisting she could handle the food preparation.

Weird...in his dream, she’d said the same thing. Except Yato had offered to help anyway.

His head still hurt too much to stand, though, so he just watched her from across the room. Meanwhile, Yukine cleared the coffee table.

Yato felt an unpleasant nagging of déjà vu.

Hiyori and Yukine started chatting about a popular anime as a rerun popped up on the TV. He remembered that from his dream too….

The food was almost done. Still humming that melody, Hiyori turned off the pressure cooker.

“Sorry for the wait,” she said, voice apologetic. “I hope you’re both as starving as I am!”

Why was everything the same as his dream?

Still feeling lethargic, Yato eased himself up to wash his hands and load his bowl. They were just sitting down to eat when a bomb threat interrupted the regular news coverage. Moments later, the door burst open.

Six masked men surrounded them in a heartbeat, clutching an assortment of firearms.

“Hands up!” one of them barked. “Do that, and no one gets hurt.”

Stunned and shaking, the three teenagers raised their hands to shoulder level one by one.

_No..._

A seventh set of footfalls echoed up the stairwell, and moments later Yato saw himself looking into his father’s eyes for the first time in more than two years.

“Well, well, well. Is this where you’ve been hiding all this time, Yaboku?” He spoke with his usual monotony.

Yato swayed on his feet and didn’t answer. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

“I’ve come a long way to get you back, you know. The least you could do is say hello to your own father...Well, I guess we’ll have plenty of time to chat on the way home.” He stepped back. “We only need my Yaboku and the Iki girl. Feel free to dispose of the boy, but if the others resist, shoot them too.”

Hiyori finally spoke up, visibly trembling. “What do you want with us?”

Yato’s father raised his eyebrows. “I want your time machine, naturally. I thought you were a genius, Iki-san.”

“Why only me and Yato?” She looked like she was about to cry. Yato wanted to say something to her, but he couldn’t move an inch.

“You built the time machine, didn’t you? Really, this idiocy is starting to get on my nerves.”

Hiyori glared at him. “Then let Yukine go. He hasn’t done anything!”

Why was everything happening exactly the same way as that dream?

Yato’s father rubbed his jaw. “Hmm. No. He knows too much. In any case, I’m tired. Let’s wrap this up quickly, shall we?”

_And what happens next is…._

Yukine was staring at the nearest gun, eyes wide. Uncomprehending.

Yato still couldn’t move.

And then the scene from his nightmare happened all over again. Now he understood—he’d time-leapt to earlier that day to prevent Yukine’s death. Instead, he’d just done everything more or less the same as before.

So when Hiyori brought up the neurotoxin, Yato immediately comprehended her intent.

 _Okay. I’ll leap again. But shit, my lapse in judgment was dangerous. I have to get Yukine out of here before they arrive_.

He put on the headphones, hardly flinching when a shot grazed his left arm. “Ready?”

A tear fell from Hiyori’s face and onto the keyboard. “I think so. But Yato, are you sure?!”

“I’ll save him!” he shouted back. “This time, I swear!”

Another bullet narrowly missed them both. She hit the enter key and flashed him one last sad smile as one of the Rounders shot her in the side and she fell. Before Hiyori hit the floor, Yato was gone.

**[8/20/18 17:48:05]**

Once again, the lab spiraled into colorful fragments, then reformed. Yato still had a killer headache, but felt less disoriented.

_This time I’ll get it right._

If memory served, the Rounders had come by at shortly before 8 PM both times, so he had less than two hours to track down Yukine and get him to safety. Heart beating in his throat, he called his friend. It went right to voicemail.

 _Really?_ he thought. _His phone’s off the one time I want to call him?_

Next, he dialed Hiyori’s number. No answer from her either. Right, she was taking a shower back at her hotel. He sighed, wondering where Yukine could be. “Shopping” didn’t exactly narrow it down.

Keys turned in the lock, and a moment later Yukine stepped over the threshold.

Alive. Still breathing.

“Yukine…,” said Yato, then shook his head. They could get sentimental once he was safe. “There you are! Where the hell were you?”

Yukine frowned at him. “I told you, I went shopping. Why are you so worked up?”

“Doesn’t matter; let’s move.” Yato grabbed his wrist and yanked him back out the door.

“Wh—Yato, where are we going?” His protests fell on deaf ears as Yato pulled him down the street and out onto the main thoroughfare.

“Your phone’s off and I couldn’t get a hold of you. Speaking of which, could you tell Hiyori to stay in her hotel?”

“I lost my charger. What has gotten _into_ you?” Yukine dug in his heels, but Yato refused to relax his grip.

“Yukine. I know this sounds weird. But just...trust me.”

Yukine narrowed his eyes, but stopped struggling and let Yato lead him toward Akihabara Station. As they approached, Yato saw a couple of guys dressed like tourists. They didn’t have masks, but he recognized their clothing anyway. They were two of the people who were going to invade the lab. He flattened against a wall until they passed by.

They turned onto another street. The crowds got thicker the closer they got to the station, until they simply couldn’t pass through anymore.

“What’s going on?” Yato muttered to no one in particular. Hadn’t the news said something about a bomb threat locking the station down? Swearing under his breath, he started herding Yukine back out of the crowd.

Something cold and hard pressed up against his back. He couldn’t see his assailant’s face, but—

“No sudden moves,” the man hissed into his ear. Yato froze.

Yukine, a couple of paces ahead, stopped and turned back. “Yato? You coming, or what?”

“Hey, what the hell are you doing? Get out of the damn walkway!” A passerby shoved them apart a moment later. Yato took advantage of the commotion to grab hold of Yukine and force his way out of the throng. He could run to the next station; it would only take about five minutes if they hustled. They crossed the street and kept running. The crowds were dwindling now, and—

There. Ahead on the sidewalk, four men walked shoulder to shoulder, forcing pedestrians to duck around them. A couple yelled insults, but the men kept moving relentlessly forward.

They spun back around before the men could notice them, only to spot another group of his father’s cronies coming from the other direction.

The sand in the hourglass was draining quickly, much too quickly.

His phone buzzed. Probably Hiyori, wondering where they were.

Yato glanced left, right. The men were gaining on him. They’d definitely noticed the two of them now; their steps quickened and their hands reached inside their coat pockets.

He dashed out into the street, dragging Yukine behind him. The Rounders shouted and turned to pursue them.

“Are those guys from Yomi?” Yukine panted. “What is going on?”

Yato chose not to answer and instead conserve his breath for the ensuing chase. They made it across another intersection, causing a couple of civilians to jump back in alarm.

He tried to take a back alley to the next station, but the Rounders were waiting there too, driving him back toward Akiba. If he could just get out of the immediate area, he’d be able to board a train or subway or _something_ —

“Hey! There they are!” The shout snapped him out of his thoughts. The Rounders had their guns out now, not bothering to stay discreet. Hardly anyone else was around, the crowds having congregated near the station.

Yato hoped Hiyori was okay.

The men closed in. Back across the street they dashed.

An engine revved. Yato looked into the headlights, comprehending a second too late.

The car hit them dead on, knocking them to the pavement. His mind filled with a static buzz as he lay there on the asphalt, trying to push himself up. The headlights blinded him.

He got to his feet, numbly registering the broken bones. Ankle, ribs, wrist— _Yukine. Where’s Yukine?_

Squinting against the glare, he looked around. A small body lay motionless on the ground. Blood trickled on the asphalt.

“Well, well, well. How have you been, Yaboku?” His father’s chilling voice again washed over his ears. Of _course_ he had been in the car.

Yato gritted his teeth, taking one last look at his lifeless friend, and shot back to the lab. He fought against the blinding pain, made of pure adrenaline.

Once more, he flung himself into the past. _This time._

* * *

It was different every time.

He leapt again, and tried to escape in a taxi. They promptly got caught in a traffic jam that had frozen all street traffic in Akiba, only for one of the Rounders to casually slip into the cab and slit Yukine’s throat. Yato ran for his life once more, leaving his friend to bleed out alone.

He leapt again, and successfully made it to the next station, watching Yukine get hit by a train before they could board. It was almost comical how one misstep flung him over the edge while Yato was powerless to do anything but watch.

He leapt again, and the Rounders cornered Yukine while Yato scouted ahead for a clear route to the subway. He came back to find the street deserted; moments later an email arrived. A picture of a small, gelified body was attached. _Better luck next time_ , said the subject line.

The scream tore itself ragged from his throat.

He leapt again.

**[8/20/18 17:58:28]**

After time-leaping a half-dozen times to similar results, Yato had a different strategy—strike while the iron is hot. If the Rounders or his father didn’t get to Yukine, something else snuck up to kill him. Yato needed answers. As he shook off the now-familiar vertigo associated with time-leaping, he pulled out his phone, relieved for a change that neither Hiyori nor Yukine were around to ask nosy questions.

He hated that he still remembered his father’s email address.

_It’s me. I want to talk to you about the time machine I may or may not have invented. Meet me at the top of the radio tower in 30 minutes. Come alone._

Swallowing his dread, Yato pocketed his phone as well as a certain failed invention of his and headed to the radio tower. He got there twenty minutes before his father was scheduled to show up, so he used the remaining time to skulk around, checking for traps and finding an ideal hiding spot.

Right on time at 6:30, the door to the rooftop opened and his father stepped out, looking around impassively. He had indeed come alone.

Yato snuck up behind him and pressed Future Gadget No.1, a toy gun turned TV remote, to his father’s back. His ever-present smile not budging, his father calmly raised his hands. Yato frisked him, and sure enough, he had a real gun on him. Yato confiscated it and swapped it out for the fake. It felt ugly in his hands and weighed them down, but he bit back the discomfort as the door swung shut behind him with an ominous _bang_.

“Let’s get right to business. Why are you after us?”

His father let out a humorless laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? I want your time machine, Yaboku.”

“You can’t have it,” Yato spat. “Leave us all alone and I won’t shoot you.”

His father’s eyebrows arched. “I had a devil of a time tracking you down, and this is how you greet me? By threatening to shoot your own father?”

“I don’t give a shit about you, _Dad_ , just like you never gave one about me.”

“For what it’s worth, I’ve always cared about you. But anyway, I have just one question. How did you know we were coming? Did you go back in time to warn yourself?” His father’s grin stretched wider; Yato ground his teeth.

“It’s none of your business.” He cocked the gun and pushed it harder into his father’s back. “Your turn: What the hell do you have against Yukine?”

“It’s not personal, you know. You and Iki Hiyori built the time machine. He did not. He’s expendable.”

Yato nearly pulled the trigger right there but held himself back. “You bastard,” he finally said, spitting the insult through his clenched jaw. “Expendable? He’s my _friend_ , goddamnit.”

“He’s a good hacker, I’ll grant you that. But in the end, we only need the time machine and the two who built it. So, he can be eliminated.” His father kept chatting in a lighthearted tone, ignoring the reality of being held at gunpoint by a son he hadn’t seen in two years.

Yato clutched a hand to his head as he circled around to face his poor excuse for a parent, fighting the raging headache multiplied by the constant chaos of the loops he was doing. “Know how many times I’ve seen him die now? It’s not even all because of you, though I wish it was.”

His father looked interested at that. “Oh? If that’s the case, it sounds like attractor field convergence is what’s killing him, not me.”

“What are you talking about?” He only had vague ideas of the concept. It was one of many they’d tossed around before he ran away.

“You’re not the only one who’s been doing research, you know. Mine shows that attractor fields are well on their way to being proven as reality. Tell me more. I can’t help you unless you do.”

“He’s dying. At the same time every day. I don’t know how to stop it.” Yato clamped his mouth shut.

“Interesting.” His father looked at the dusky sky. “Perhaps the point of divergence is sooner than you thought. But I’d need more time to tell you what’s going on.”

Yato leveled the gun at his father’s chest. “How about this instead? I’ll repeat my proposition: Leave Yukine alone. If you don’t, I’ll shoot you right now.”

This time, his father’s laugh was genuine and hearty. “Oh, please. Good one, Yaboku, but you wouldn’t pull the trigger even if I _were_ behind your friend’s death.”

Yato’s hand shook. He should just prove him wrong. He looked his smiling father in the eye.

And paused.

They stared at each other for an eternity that only lasted a few seconds. The gun felt like a lead weight dragging his wrist down.

His father was right. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t kill the man making his life hell. Heaving a deep breath, Yato lowered his arm. His father plucked the gun out of his unresisting hand and pointed it back at him.

“See, I knew you couldn’t do it. There’s too much weakness in your heart. You’re just like that girl—what was her name? Sakura something-or-other?”

Yato sank to his knees. Yukine was going to die again, and all Yato had gotten out of his father were yet more riddles.

“Take him away.” This was addressed to the closed door behind them.

Yato glanced up at his father. “What—You came alone! I saw you! Dad, please! Let us go!”

The door opened and two of his father’s masked lackeys came out, holding semiautomatic rifles. Father sighed and spoke the same way he had talked down to him as a child. “Yaboku, my stupid son, you should know better than to assume we’d play by your rules. Try harder.”

The butt of the rifle cracked down on Yato’s skull and he crumpled to the rooftop.

* * *

By the time Yato came to, he was stuffed in the backseat of a car. His arms were stretched nearly to dislocation, hands tied behind his back. His eyes were itchy with dried tears, and the place where the rifle had concussed him throbbed in time with the motor.

The car’s windows were blacked out, but if he squinted he could see streetlights outside. So it was dark out, and his father was already on the hunt. Hiyori and Yukine were probably still back at the lab, absorbed in the news about the bomb threat and wondering where he was. Yato now realized the “threat” was a convenient way for the Rounders to gridlock all transport for a couple of hours. Enough time for them to grab what they needed and slip away before the authorities gave the all-clear.

One of the masked men sat beside Yato in the backseat, gun pointed at him. “Look who’s finally awake.” Yato could hear the grin behind the mask; it sickened him.

His father sat in the front passenger seat, speaking into a phone. “Yaboku has been neutralized. Focus all efforts on cornering Iki Hiyori.”

After about five minutes, the car stopped in an alley near the lab. Father got out, preparing for the ensuing raid.

Yato could only look on in desperation. “Please stop this.”

His father didn’t spare him so much as a glance, directing how he wanted the Rounders to storm the building. “It’s too late.”

“Please,” he cried, his voice echoing pitifully. “We didn’t know what we were doing. We were just playing around, all of us. I’ll go back with you! You can have the time machine! I don’t care anymore!”

He wailed like a small child. “I’m sorry for running away! I’m sorry for talking back! I’m so sorry...just... _please don’t kill my friend!_ ”

All the pent-up emotions from the endless loops were spilling out, leaving Yato’s head a fragmented mess. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He only knew he had to save his friend from certain death despite being utterly powerless to do so, gasping for air in the backseat of a car while held at gunpoint.

His father signaled to commence the lab raid. He had minutes before they captured Hiyori and got their hands on the time-leap machine.

Forcing his breath to steady, Yato launched himself up and headbutted his captor with all the force he could muster, nearly giving himself another concussion in the process.

“Owww,” the Rounder mumbled, dazed. “The hell?”

Yato brought his arms around to his front, all but dislocating a shoulder in the process, and fumbled for the door with his bound hands. Practically falling to the street below, he used his last clear thought to raise his arms above his head and bring them down, snapping the duct tape. Then he took off like a bat out of hell for the lab.

There, the scene was more or less the same as before. Yukine lay motionless on the ground, blood from a fresh bullet wound in stark contrast to the dull floorboards. Hiyori knelt next to him, looking on in horror, though she glanced up with a start as Yato entered the room. One jerk of the chin from him, and she flipped the thermostat on. He dashed into the development room as shots whizzed past. Hiyori was screaming, his father was shouting—none of it mattered now. In moments, this would all be over, or rather it would just be beginning. He primed the time-leap machine himself, having memorized the command by now, and put on the headphones.

_This time._

**[8/20/18 18:22:41]**

Yato forced himself up from where he’d been sitting on the couch. He would not fall victim to his father’s plans. Not like Hiiro, Sakura, his mother, or any of the other countless other people that had gotten caught up in one man’s greed.

Trying to stop Yukine’s death simply wasn’t going to work, as much as it pained him to admit.

Something his father had said last time had stuck in his head: _Convergence. I don’t follow your rules. Attractor fields._

Trying to solve this riddle alone was fruitless; he knew that now.

“Hiyori. I have something I need to tell you about. Step outside with me.”

Hiyori obliged, setting the hotpot preparation aside, and followed him. They walked for a few minutes in uncomfortable silence, stopping on a freeway overpass where no one would be able to listen in.

“Yato, did you come here in the time-leap machine?” Hiyori’s voice was deadly calm.

“Yeah, I did.”

“I thought so. You were totally fine until you got that call. Now you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Tell me what happened. Or, I guess, what _will_ happen.”

“It’s my dad—he tries to take us captive, he kills Yukine, and I don’t—I don’t—know—what to do anymore…” His voice broke, then trailed off pathetically. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to keep the emotions inside. It was so hard to maintain a clear head when all he could see were the various ways his friend had died.

His phone showed nearly 7 PM. The inevitable was drawing nearer.

He felt the warm touch of Hiyori’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll help. What happened?”

Yato slowly started to explain things to her. How no matter what he tried, Yukine always died on this day, around this time. If it wasn’t his father, it was some sort of freak accident. At first he’d thought that it was maybe just coincidence. But his father had mentioned something about _convergence_ last time.

“Basically, he means this world line is converging on Yukine’s death, so no amount of time-leaping can save him. Hiyori, help me.” He sank to the ground. “I have all the answers. I know every possible scenario. But when it matters, I can’t do anything.”

Hiyori knelt with him. “It’s not nothing. You’ve made it this far, and I can’t imagine what you’ve been through to get here. We’ll think of something.”

Yato lifted his head ever so slightly. It startled him that she was so close, her round eyes shining with determination. “You think so?”

“I know so. But first, we need a slightly different approach.” She stood up and extended a hand.

Reluctantly, Yato took it. Rising to his feet felt like trying to get out of mud that had him buried up to his neck, but somehow, he made it. He leaned his hands on the railing, not trusting himself to stand without falling quite yet. 

“So here’s what I want you to do.” Hiyori crossed her arms. “I estimate the time-leap machine has a max range of 48 hours with one leap. If you make two consecutive leaps, you should end up at about 55 hours ago, at about 2 PM on the eighteenth. Once you do that, grab me and repeat everything you just told me.”

“All right, I will.” Yato turned back to the lab, trying to keep his thoughts focused on what Hiyori had told him, not the impending raid and Yukine’s death. The more he dwelled on it, the more he fell apart.

**[8/18/18 14:02:31]**

With a gasp, Yato pitched forward and tumbled face down onto the floor.

“Hey, Yato, are you okay?” Hiyori’s concerned voice floated overhead.

Yukine made some sarcastic remark that got drowned out by the noise still crashing around his ears like the world’s loudest waterfall. This was his first time doing two consecutive leaps; Yato wondered how long he had before his molecular structure broke down and he became a pile of shredded goo. Another failed experiment. His father would mark his file with a red stamp and continue torturing people.

 _Right. I have to tell Hiyori everything_. He pulled her out of the lab and walked several blocks with her. They ended up sheltering from the heat and sunlight in the shade of a staircase by that same freeway overpass.

“Yato, did you come here in the time-leap machine?” That serious voice again.

He sighed. “Yeah, I did.”

“I thought so. You were totally fine until you got that call. Now you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Tell me what happened. Or, I guess, what _will_ happen.”

Hiyori believed Yato’s claims to have come from two days in the future right away. Though she looked like she wanted to question him more about the specifics, they turned their attention to the task at hand.

“So if he keeps dying at the same point on _this_ world line, we should change it, right?” she said after mulling everything over for a bit.

Yato grimaced. “I wish. It’s the mention of attractor field convergence that’s getting me. There was a theory we had a long time ago, that world lines are separate but converge at certain points in history, called attractor fields. If this attractor field converges on Yukine’s death, changing the world line wouldn’t solve anything. We’d have to change attractor fields entirely to even have a shot. Dad and I were never able to prove this theory, not having a working time machine, but it sounds like that’s what he thinks the case is.”

“He could just be trying to deceive you into thinking it’s hopeless,” Hiyori pointed out. “From what you said, he seems like the type to do that.”

“He’s manipulative, but he’s not really a liar. For now, I want to operate on the assumption that his theory is true. But I don’t want to mess with time anymore. We saw how that ended up for us, and I can’t take the risk of things changing for the worse.”

“What about instead of messing with time more, we fix it?” Hiyori said.

Yato looked at her, uncomprehending.

“You said we sent several D-Mails that changed the past, right? Couldn’t we cancel them out somehow? If we backtracked, would that change anything?”

“You know...It just might.” He rubbed his chin, head feeling like the gears of an old clock creaking back to life. “And if we can figure out where the world lines diverged to start, we can move to a different attractor field that converges on a _different_ event.”

Hiyori nodded. “That’s a start. I’m going to get back to working on that time-leap machine, so it’s ready to go if you need it.”

Yato hated the assumption that he’d fail again. But she was right. They couldn’t afford to take any chances.

“At least, it’s good to know my machine has worked so far. We may not have something super robust, but it’s helping.” Her cheeks were flushed.

More than ever, the guilt that he felt with how she was getting dragged into this mess washed over him. She deserved to be giving lectures and presenting her amazing research to the world. Instead she’d spent her summer hanging out in Akiba with a hack scientist, his teenage sidekick, and their time machine. Now they were being hunted for what they knew.

 _It’s your fault, Hiyori. You’re too brilliant for your own good_. Of _course_ his father wanted Hiyori’s time travel research for himself. It was vital to his plans to have a fully functional time machine. And if he couldn’t have her, he’d kill her too.

Yato’s stomach turned as he remembered how quickly Father could manipulate people with just his words. It was easy to believe his sob story about his wife, to be convinced that his research was for the greater good and not born out of some twisted desire to get revenge on an enemy that was long since gone.

Yato knew how easy it was, because it was what he had grown up thinking. And even Sakura had fallen for it, as evidenced by her long years working for him despite his continued advocacy for human experimentation.

Could Hiyori resist such manipulation? Her will was strong, but Father was stronger. Yato thought about ten, twenty years in the future. How long would it take Yomi to finalize their time machine construction with both of them working under him?

Yato knew he’d rather die than return to that stark, white lab. Emotion had no place in his father’s kingdom, and Yato had never quite mastered the art of locking it away. He already hated that he was having to revert to his old habits to save his friend.

But Father had a knack for getting what he wanted. He’d have no problems hurting Hiyori, or even Hiiro, to get Yato to cooperate. And he’d already shown he would kill Yukine just to prove a point.

“Are you ready to go?” Hiyori’s voice broke through the storm whirling in his thoughts, and Yato jumped slightly. He turned to face her and sighed. “Yeah.”

 _I won’t become their pawn. I won’t let them take you. I won’t let them kill my friend._ A single-minded determination filled Yato’s soul, blocking everything else out.

They turned and walked back toward the lab. It was going to be another long couple of days.

* * *

The first D-Mail to be undone was the one Bishamon had sent that changed her from a renowned particle physicist to just another cat maid. He just had to confiscate her phone somehow and cancel out what she’d told Kazuma, whatever that was.

Figuring the best way to do this was to swipe it while she was performing, Yato slunk to her cafe with Yukine in tow.

“Remind me why you’re dragging me back to this dump?” he whined.

“Because Hiyori has a lot of work to do and I need your technical expertise,” Yato said.

Yukine huffed instead of replying. Yato knew it was a flimsy excuse, but he was saving his good lies to charm his way into the backstage area.

They stopped by a flower shop to pick up a modest bouquet of red roses. Yato straightened his jacket (the one suit jacket he owned, stashed in the back of the closet for just such an occasion), and made a halfhearted attempt to sweep his hair out of his face.

“How do I look?” he asked, lifting his arms to show off the button-down and tie underneath.

“Completely ridiculous,” Yukine deadpanned. “The jeans and cowboy boots really tie this look together.”

“Do _you_ want to spend 10,000 yen on slacks?” he shot back. “Also, these aren’t cowboy boots.”

“I already have some slacks, but they’d look even worse on you than whatever that mess is. Don’t you have any better shoes?”

“No. I need you to work with me here!”

Yukine rolled his eyes. “If I don’t speak, assume it’s because I’m trying not to laugh.”

Yato shrugged, trying to forget that Yukine was scheduled to die the following evening if he didn’t pull this off, and headed up the stairs, where one of the costumed cat maids clapped her hands together when she saw them. Yato vaguely recognized her as the one who had introduced Bishamon on their previous visit. Same curly pink wig. “Hey there, meowsters! Roses for the lady Bishamon?” She winked at the bouquet Yato was trying not to crush with his nervous grip.

“You know it.” He ducked his head and laughed. “Would you be so kind as to escort me to her dressing room so I can leave them for her?”

“No guests are allowed backstage. No excep—”

“I’m her boyfriend,” he forced out.

Behind him, Yukine couldn’t conceal a bark of laughter, but turned it into a passable coughing fit.

The girl glared at Yukine, then turned her suspicious gaze to Yato. “The lady doesn’t have a—”

“Listen—” he glanced at her name tag— “Aiha. Can I call you Aiha? We’re very new to the relationship thing and have been trying to keep it on the down low. I won’t bother her. I’ll just leave the roses outside her room for her to find later. You can watch me. Okay?”

“How about I take them for you?”

“You know she’s very particular about people touching her...things.” Yato hazarded a guess based on her reaction when he’d tried to take the phone from her last time, then turned his best pleading eyes on Aiha. “Pretty please?”

Aiha looked the two of them over for a long minute. Finally, she sighed and put a finger to her lips. “ _One_ exception. Follow me, and try not to make any noise.”

Still hardly believing his ruse had worked, Yato and Yukine followed her through a back door with a key card and into a hallway. A single security camera was affixed to the far corner; Aiha led them just past it and gestured to a door with Bishamon’s name on it. Locked with a regular key.

“She’s in here,” she whispered. “Just leave your roses and get out.”

Yato nodded and placed them to the side, then followed her back out with no complaints.

“I imagine you’ll want to stay for her show? I can try to get you a table up front—”

“That’s okay,” Yato said hurriedly. “I have a, uh, doctor’s appointment that I was on my way to. Next time!”

They left, Aiha still staring after them.

“She probably thinks we’re a couple of weirdos,” Yato muttered. “Anyway, what do you think?”

“There was so much perfume in there I thought I was gonna die.”

“About the security system, Yukine. Can you get us in there?”

“The electronic lock I can get past if you give me a day or two.”

Yato swallowed and glanced at a digital clock on a building display. 6 PM. They’d be cutting it very close if he could do it in 48 hours. “What about the security camera?”

“Oh, that wasn’t on. There was no light, plus Aiha wouldn’t have let us backstage if it was working.”

Yato let out a breath. “Right. Okay. What parts do you need to get through that lock? We can pick those up on the way home.”

Yukine counted a few things off on his fingers. “How soon do we need this done?”

“As soon as humanly possible.” _You’re going to die if we don’t._

Hiyori pulled an all-nighter, tinkering away at the time-leap machine for the dozenth time and getting close to the dozenth completion. This time, though, Yukine worked silently at the opposite end of the table, building a device to get them through the electronic lock; he’d bought an identical lock to take apart as he went. Yato, meanwhile, was trying to master the art of lock-picking to get them through the regular lock on the dressing room door. He wasn’t in too much of a hurry—even if he totally blew it for them, he could just resolve to do better next time— _Wait, what am I thinking?!_

Yato shook his head and stepped outside, vowing to redouble his efforts after a break. The repetition was getting to him. He wasn’t giving up. He could never give up.

* * *

Two days later, shortly after Hiyori finished the time-leap machine and saw them off with a grim nod, Yato and Yukine headed back to Bishamon’s cafe. Yukine stuffed his hands in his pockets to conceal his gizmo.

“Hey there, meowsters! Table for two?” the hostess chirped. Yato forced his eyes up. Thankfully, it wasn’t Aiha.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” he managed.

They ordered iced coffees and scanned the crowd. As usual, it was packed. Yato noticed Aiha walking around and ducked his head.

A minute or two later, the show started. The lights dimmed, and Bishamon was joined onstage by several of her cat maid backup dancers. The stench of perfume grew stronger.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” Yato muttered after the second song came to an end. Yukine nodded. A minute after he’d slipped into the men’s room, his friend joined him. Taking care to walk confidently, they exited and approached the backstage door.

“Hurry,” Yato whispered. Yukine brushed him off, pointing the device he’d made at the lock. The door clicked open a moment later, and Yato breathed out a tiny sigh. Phase one: successful. They hurried down the hallway, then Yato pushed in front as they approached Bishamon’s door. He jimmied the lock and it opened surprisingly easily. The lock was totally busted, but Yukine took one look at it and wedged a chair under the handle to hold off any curious visitors.

“We probably only have a minute or two before someone comes by and sees this,” he muttered. Yato rolled his eyes. _If I change the world line successfully, it won’t matter_. He grabbed Bishamon’s phone off the vanity and opened it. The PIN was easy enough to guess—the stroke count in each character of “Bishamonten.” 9784.

Out in the main room, the music stopped.

Swearing under his breath, Yukine dragged a heavy box to rest on the chair as well.

Just then, the doorknob jiggled. Yato and Yukine froze, their eyes meeting before turning back to the knob. It jiggled again. Then there was a knock.

“Hello? Is someone in there?” It was Bishamon.

“ _Fuck_ ,” said Yato emphatically.

“Hurry, you dipshit!” Yukine hissed back, backing away from the door.

Bishamon turned the knob again. “Tsuguha, call the police. I think there’s someone in my dressing room.”

Hands growing slippery with sweat, Yato navigated to her messages and found Kazuma at the top of her contacts. He’d sent her a barrage of texts in the last five minutes, complimenting her performance. And if he scrolled back even further, he could see their disgusting flirting. Biting back a groan, he typed a D-Mail telling Kazuma to go ahead with helping her and with his other hand whipped out his own phone to call Hiyori. She answered on the first ring.

“Everything okay?”

“Not really! Is it on?!”

“It’s on!”

“Great.” He bit his lip and hovered over the send button. Was he prepared to turn two people’s lives upside down? Bishamon and Kazuma seemed a lot closer in this world line.

“What are you waiting for?!” Yukine exclaimed. The panic in his eyes made Yato remember. Yes. He had to. Nothing waited for him here except a future where his friend died.

“Who the hell is in there?!” Bishamon roared from outside. There was a huge _whack_ at the door. It sounded like she was swinging something very heavy at it.

“You are literally insane,” Yato moaned, and hit Send.

He paused for a second. Nothing. No weird vertigo, and they were still in Bishamon’s dressing room with a very angry cat maid on the other side of a thin wooden door.

“Are you sure it’s on?” Yato snapped into his phone, all efforts to be silent forgotten.

“Yes, it’s on! Why, is it not working?” He heard clicking keys on Hiyori’s end.

“I don’t think so. Nothing’s changed so far.”

“Everything’s operational on my end. Is the phone right?”

Yato turned it around and felt a weight drop in his stomach. “No, it’s not...this isn’t the phone she used last time. Damn it all!”

“What do you—” Yukine was interrupted by another loud _bang_ at the door and flinched back. It trembled a little more on its hinges. One more hit and it would be so much dust on the floor.

“What the hell do you mean?” he finally managed.

“The case is a different color, and there’s a lion sticker on the back.” Yato frowned and scrolled through her message history. “But this _has_ to be Bishamon’s. Kazuma texts her every five seconds!”

“What if she used someone else’s phone to send the message?” Yukine suggested, keeping a nervous eye on the rattling door.

“ _I’ll kill you, goddamnit!_ ” Another swing, and one of the hinges popped out of place. Now Yato could see Bishamon’s face on the other side and for the first time in his life felt like he might piss his pants.

“Kazuma? You mean we should steal Kazuma’s phone instead?!” Yato whined. _After all the work we put in here?_

“This clearly isn’t working!” Yukine said. “Hiyori, do you think—”

“ _Yes_. Try Kazuma’s phone. It’s worth a shot.”

“Easier said than done!” Yato yelped as the final kick came and the dressing room door, as well as the chair and box barricading it, flew into the room.

Yato snapped his phone shut and acted on pure instinct, shoving his friend in front and following just behind as they made a mad dash for the exit.

Bishamon lunged after him, her fingers snatching the back of his suit jacket. Yato slipped his arms out of the sleeves and kept running. Yukine had already hauled the front door open and was halfway out of the cafe; Yato inhaled and ran as fast as he could. He couldn’t tell _exactly_ how close Bishamon was, but enough to prevent him from turning around.

He practically tripped going down the stairs, but Bishamon had stopped at the top, leaning over the railing and snarling behind him.

“And don’t come back!” she roared.

 _Top of my list of priorities_ , thought Yato as he clapped a hand on Yukine’s back. The two of them took off; Yato led them through alleys and side roads just in case they actually _had_ called the police.

They collapsed against a stand selling manga magazines, chests heaving. The shop vendor shot them a look, then resumed reading the hentai he was buried in.

“Well?” Yukine asked as soon as he’d gotten his breath back. “What now?”

Yato tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “I don’t know...I don’t...ugh.” He pressed his hands over his face, trying to breathe. Even without looking at the clock, he could tell they were running out of time. Already he was bracing himself to hightail it back to the lab, time-leap, and plot some other way to get Kazuma’s phone, but the thought sickened him. Either way, he was sacrificing his friend again.

“Hey.” Someone was talking from just above him, but he ignored it until Yukine punched him in the shoulder. He slid his hands down his face and blinked several times. Perhaps he had finally gone insane. There was certainly _no way_ the brown-haired glasses guy from the maid cafe was standing in front of him.

“I’m talking to you,” he said, now sounding irritated. Yato pointed at his own chest, and the guy rolled his eyes. “Yes, you. Can you move?”

Yato scooted to the side so he could grab the magazine he was leaning against. He slapped it down on the counter and fished out a wallet, and finally Yato found his voice. “Are you Kazuma?”

The other guy jumped so hard he dropped his wallet, five-yen coins scattering about. He knelt to retrieve them, swearing under his breath. “Who are you? Who told you that name?”

“Bisha—er, Viina,” said Yato, picking up a stray coin and handing it back. “I’m an old friend of hers. But listen, you’re the exact person I need to talk to right now.”

Kazuma frowned. “What?”

“What’s your relationship with Viina?” Yato blurted out, then wished he’d thought his question over more.

Kazuma had finished paying for his doujin and was straightening his glasses, looking amused. “I’m dating her. Why do you want to know?”

Yato sat there, mouth hanging open. “You,” he managed. “ _You’re_ dating her.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Please take this somewhere else,” the doujin salesman interrupted, sensing the animosity.

Yato stood up. “Kazuma, come with me. I have a _lot_ to talk to you about.”

“And why would I do that?” he asked, striking a balance between confusion and smugness.

“Because we think your girlfriend might be in danger,” Yukine piped up.

Kazuma looked at him, seemingly noticing him for the first time. “What?”

Yato uttered a silent thanks to Yukine. “It’s true. Now please, listen to what I have to say.”

Kazuma regarded them for a long moment, then nodded. “I will.”

The three of them found themselves at an anime cafe not far from Bishamon’s. They grabbed a table and placed drink orders.

“I would take you to the maid cafe I frequent,” Kazuma explained, “but there was a bit of a commotion there earlier.”

Yato winced. “I, uh, heard about that.”

Their drinks arrived; Yukine stood up.

“Bathroom,” he said.

As soon as Yukine was out of earshot, Yato grabbed Kazuma by the tie and leaned in so their faces were nearly touching. “Listen here. This is a matter of life and death. So you’d better answer my questions very clearly, or else there will be hell to pay. Got it?”

Kazuma shoved him away. “Yes. What’s going on?”

“Did something happen between you and Bishamon—Viina—a few years ago?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You wanted to help her out, but something happened to convince you otherwise. That ring any bells?”

“Now that you mention it, yes.” Kazuma looked thoughtful. “A few years ago, Viina was trying to finish college and become a particle physicist. But she had issues with how she was treated in the field, so I wanted to help her out, as it were.”

“Help her out how?” Yato interrupted. Yukine rejoined them, listening curiously.

“I wanted to sabotage some of her competitors so she’d have less to deal with when it came time to get theses published,” he said casually.

Yato nearly spat out his soda. “How were you planning to do that?” He coughed into a napkin.

Kazuma continued as if nothing had happened. “I have my ways. However, the night before I was going to do it, I received a message from myself advising me not to, that it was for the better. So I didn’t help her, and now she’s stuck as a cat maid.”

 _And now you’re dating_. It figured that in this world line Bishamon wouldn’t be friendzoning a guy who had been nothing but supportive of her.

“Does Viina being in danger somehow have to do with all this?” Kazuma asked.

Yato lowered his head. “Look, confession. She’s not actually in danger. But I still need your help—”

Kazuma stood up. “If she’s not in danger, we have nothing more to discuss. Goodbye.” He set his empty glass on the table and headed for the door. Yato shoved Yukine aside to follow him.

“You pay for the drinks,” he called over his shoulder.

“Fuck off,” Yukine replied.

Yato caught up with Kazuma as he descended the stairs, throwing an arm in front of him. 

Kazuma pushed him away without a second glance. “Please stop bothering me, or else I’ll call the police.”

Yato retracted his arm. So he was not the type to be swayed by a kabedon. Fine. He would just have to be as charming as he’d been with Aiha. “Look. Kazuma. Listen.”

“Stop calling me that,” he muttered, red tingeing his cheeks. “It’s a name Viina gave to me. You have no right to use it.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want, just—stop and listen for a second.”

Kazuma came to a begrudging stop as they emerged to the street below and turned his piercing gaze onto Yato, who idly wondered whether he or Bishamon had developed that habit first.

“We were lying about Bisha—Viina being in danger. But I wasn’t joking when I said this is a matter of life and death. You remember my friend back there? It’s _his_ life on the line. So please—hear me out.”

Kazuma relaxed the slightest bit.

“That message was not something you sent yourself. I think Viina borrowed your phone to send it, because she knew you wouldn’t listen to anyone else. But more than anything, you wanted to help her. At whatever cost to your relationship.”

The words were spilling out of Yato in a frenzy now. He thought of Hiyori with a pang.

“That message changed the course of events as we know it, and one way or another, it led to Yukine’s death. This was not how... _any_ of this was supposed to go.”

“And what do I have to do with this? How am I expected to fix _your_ problems?” Kazuma wondered.

Yato squared his shoulders. “I just need to borrow your phone for five minutes and set things straight. That’s all. You won’t even remember it was different.”

Kazuma’s frown deepened. “...Five minutes. And, what? I’ll be happier?”

Yato caught Kazuma’s eye and knew he couldn’t lie. “No, you won’t be happier. But she will be.”

“Then I accept. Everything I do...is for her sake.” He didn’t seem to be conscious of speaking that second sentence, but he dug his phone out of his pocket and passed it to Yato, who took it with shaking hands. It was the same one he remembered seeing Bishamon holding. No wonder she’d been in a hurry back then.

Yukine caught up with them, still grumbling about the drink prices. Waving him off, Yato called Hiyori, who answered right away again.

“I’ve got Kazuma’s phone here,” he said. “Fire it up before he changes his mind.”

The clock caught his eye. 8PM was fast approaching, though Yukine still looked perfectly fine.

 _Looks can be deceiving_. Father’s words rang in his head; he snapped at them to shut up.

Though, they had given him an idea. He drafted the D-Mail. Short and sweet.

_Looks can be deceiving. Help Viina!_

“The timer is counting down!” Hiyori said. “Ready on your end?”

Yato looked at Kazuma, who seemed to steady himself, then nodded.

“Viina...forgive me,” he muttered.

Yato hit send just as the Rounders caught up to them, drawing their firearms.

**_0.409431_ **

Yato dragged Yukine back to the lab, waiting with bated breath for the second hand to make its way painstakingly around the clock. Every moment felt like a lifetime. What would happen?

Any second now, in the other world line, his father and the Rounders would break open the door to the lab, take Yato and Hiyori prisoner, and shoot Yukine. If not, something else would interfere and kill his friend. But now….

They made it back safely. Shooting Yato a glare for suddenly making them run, Yukine sat down and started flipping through some programming manual. Still alive, still breathing...for how much longer?

Hiyori glanced up with a start as they entered the room. She looked just as tense as Yato was, pacing the room with her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles were white.

The minute passed, and then another, and another. Still, no one came bursting through the door brandishing guns. His father’s creepy voice never floated up the stairwell. Yato relaxed for what felt like the first time in weeks, then caught Hiyori’s eyes and nodded.

_Safe._

His friend was alive. He’d done it, and they’d been wrong about convergence.

The following night, Yukine died again.

**[8/20/18 14:01:23]**

Yato set his phone down with a shaky hand. So he’d bought himself 24 hours, but Yukine’s death was still a fixed point. There was no way around it; he had to continue undoing D-Mails. At least that time, his father hadn’t found him. But there was still a fiber optic cable connecting their lab directly to Yomi, and it was only a matter of time before they nailed down the exact location.

Yato’s gaze drifted to Hiyori, who was celebrating the completion of the time-leap machine with circles under her eyes. The next D-Mail had been the one she’d sent to her brother. He’d jumped back to just after she’d finished. If she refused to help him, he’d at least have the machine ready to jump back again.

Yato took her outside, and somehow they found themselves at the same freeway overpass as before.

“Yato, did you come here in the time-leap machine?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“I thought so. You were totally fine until you got that call. Now you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Tell me what happened. Or, I guess, what _will_ happen?”

Instead of answering, Yato shook his head and slid to the ground. “Do you know how many times we’ve had this conversation?”

She sat next to him. “Too many, I suppose.”

“That’s correct.” Slowly, Yato laid out what had happened to Yukine and what he’d been doing to help him. Hiyori stayed silent, eyes wide as she thought through the abstract concepts of attractor field convergence and how Yato was attempting to repair their fractured world line by returning it to its original state.

“How can I help?” were her first words. She was smiling at him; he almost couldn’t bear it. Not when he was about to break her heart.

“Actually, there is _something_ you can do,” he began. “Aside from being your brilliant self.”

She giggled and blushed, and he felt worse.

“You know how I told you Bishamon sent a D-Mail that changed the past, and I undid it?”

“Yeah…”

“There was another one. And...you sent it. On behalf of your brother.”

Hiyori looked confused more than anything. “Masaomi? What does he have to do with any of this?”

“From the sound of it, you wanted him to become a doctor instead of dropping out of medical school to be an artist.” Yato’s hands, twisting in his lap, fell still. “You wanted him to help your grandma, but she died anyway.”

Hiyori was staring straight ahead. “He has been taking care of Grandma these last few years, and he did finish medical school, but he’s always been super depressed. His heart’s never been in the whole doctor thing. You’re saying it’s because of me?”

Slowly, Yato nodded. She sighed.

“So to help save Yukine, I have to undo that message I sent him. Yato, why did I do such a stupid thing without asking Masaomi if that was what _he_ wanted?”

“You said it was worth a shot,” said Yato. It occurred to him her lack of conviction on the matter may have been why she’d wound up with hardly a difference in the world line. Still, it was something that had to be negated.

“Well, if I lose my grandma either way…” Hiyori pulled out her phone. “You’re _sure_ this is for the better. Will my brother be happier?”

Yato shrugged. “I can’t say. I’ve never met him. But if he wanted to become an artist all along, he probably will be happier.”

She gave him a small smile in return. “I suppose you’re right. Taking control of his future was a selfish move on my part.”

“Hey, we all make mistakes.” Yato hesitated for a moment, then put an arm around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, the contact causing his heart to shoot into his throat. It felt like their touch was burning him, but all the same he did not want to let go.

They sat there for a while, thinking about entirely different worlds, until Hiyori wiggled out from under him and stood up, brushing herself off.

“I guess we should do this.”

Yato got to his feet too. “If you’re ready.”

Her message to her brother was simple: _Don’t forget to follow your heart._

**_0.456914_ **

The last D-Mail to undo (aside from the simple lottery mixup) was the one Kofuku had sent, that had turned Daigo from a dead boy into an alive one. Yato had been dreading this one—how was he supposed to march up to her and demand she lose her child?

He thought of simply _not_ doing anything about it, but as far as he knew he’d only bought Yukine another 24 hours. Not to mention, he had no idea what Kofuku’s old phone number was. There was no way around it.

So, gritting his teeth, he went to call on Kofuku as she dropped Daigo off after school. She greeted him with a toothy grin, and again he felt sick.

“Hey, Kofuku!” He pushed his feelings down and away, assuming a calm mask. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Sure!” She patted the passenger seat of her truck. “I’m about to run some errands, so come with me. I’ll take you back when we’re done.”

Holding his breath, he got in, avoiding her glances as she put the car into drive.

“So what’s up?” Kofuku asked, still smiling. “Need advice on talking to a girl?”

The breath left him with a squeak. “...No...”

“You sure? You had _lovesick_ written all over your face. Is it Hiyori? Oh, it must be. She’s cute, that’s for sure.”

Yato rolled down the window, but instead of fresh air got a faceful of exhaust fumes and rolled it back up, coughing.

“What do you need help with? I’m an _expert_ on girls. Dated many of them in my day.” She winked.

“I’m not lovesick, Kofuku,” he muttered. “Just...confused.”

“Well, I’m not sure I can help with plain old confusion, but there’s a reason you reached out to me, yeah?” The car inched out onto the main thoroughfare, immediately getting caught in the usual Akiba traffic. Kofuku’s run-down delivery truck was a sore sight amid all the cabs and luxury vehicles, but she hummed a little tune that made it feel more cozy, and Yato more guilty.

“How are things with Daikoku?” he asked in lieu of getting to the point.

Kofuku gave him another sidelong glance. “That’s a strange way to ask for help, Yato-chan. But they’re fine. He loaned me this truck to help with deliveries and such, and lately we’ve been talking more. It’s nice.”

“Oh. Good.” He hesitated. “And Daigo?”

“Top of his class. He’s gonna get into a great university at this rate. I’m so proud.”

Yato bit his lip. “That’s good.” They sat in silence for another minute or two, hardly moving.

“Yato-chan, don’t waste my time,” Kofuku said softly. “What are you really here for?”

“I need the phone number you had before your current one.”

She blinked and drew to a stop. “Why?”

The way she was looking at him terrified him. “Would you kill me if I didn’t explain?”

“Tell me why, Yato.” Kofuku’s voice had a note of deadly calm in it aside from the omission of her cute nickname for him, and Yato wondered if she remembered anything from the other world line.

He relented, staring stubbornly out the passenger side window instead of at her. “Do you remember how, that night Daigo ran away, you received a message with details of his location?”

She said nothing, so he continued. “That was a message from the future. You sent it yourself. If you hadn’t, he’d be dead, but you and Daikoku would still be married.”

“And you want my number to undo that message.” Kofuku was more perceptive than Yato had realized.

“That’s correct.”

“Get out of my car.” She said it so quietly Yato could almost pretend he hadn’t heard. He didn’t move. “Get out of my car!” She wasn’t shouting, but her tone made it clear she wasn’t joking.

Yato clenched his fists. “Kofuku, things weren’t supposed to be this way. If you don’t do this, Yukine will die tomorrow.”

“And I suppose you think my son’s life is a fair trade,” she said coldly.

“There’s more than that going on—Kofuku, _please_. I wouldn’t be asking if I knew there were any other way.” As he spoke, Yato knew it was a lost cause.

“I said _get out of my car!_ ” Her raised voice felt like a whip against his skin, and he fumbled for his seatbelt as she pulled to the curb.

“Kofuku, I’m sorry—”

“Just leave!” She was crying now. Feeling guiltier than ever, Yato got out and left.

The following night, he received a call from Hiyori, who was out shopping with Yukine. He answered, though he already knew what it would be.

“Yato, it’s Yukine—Something’s gone wrong, he just collapsed! He’s not breathing! Yato, help!”

He breathed out a heavy sigh and checked the time. Nearly 8PM. He’d bought them another day, but it still wasn’t enough. “I’m so sorry, Hiyori.”

“What do I do?!” she wailed.

“You don’t have to do anything. It’s okay.” Yato placed his phone on the desk, hearing her sobs leak out through the speakers. He put on the headphones, checked the data, then hit the key that sent him time-leaping back two days.

The process was becoming second nature to him.

**[8/22/18 19:23:02]**

Yato headed home, yet another unsuccessful attempt to persuade Kofuku to give up her old phone number trailing in his wake. His cheek stung from where she’d slapped him—the direct approach had _not_ worked out any better. Already he was resigning himself to another time-leap.

Perhaps next time he’d be more forceful. If he was going to be stuck at this for a while longer, he could try threatening her. Father had taught him rather persuasive methods of getting information out of people, and used them on him plenty too.

Yato stopped in his tracks as he realized what he was thinking. Constantly time-leaping was fraying the last of his sanity away, and he _still_ couldn’t get Kofuku to divulge her number. He was stuck in a loop, and Yukine’s time had almost run out once more.

“Fuck this!” he shouted at the empty street.

As he strode to the building door, he noticed a dark outline on the bench outside Daikoku’s shop. He squinted at it; a cigarette illuminated its features briefly. It was Daikoku, who looked just as surprised to see him.

“Hey, freeloader,” he said, but there was only gentle teasing in his voice. “How are you?”

Instead of responding, Yato huffed and took a seat next to him.

“Want one?” Daikoku held out the cigarette box.

“No thanks, you know I don’t smoke.”

“Suit yourself. So what’s up?”

Yato frowned, trying to think of a suitable lie. Nothing came.

“Whatever’s bothering you...does it have anything to do with those weird experiments you do up there?” Daikoku asked.

Yato said nothing.

“So it does, huh?” He inhaled and let out a puff of smoke; it trailed away in an invisible breeze. Yato tilted his head back and watched it long after it disappeared.

“I’ve been having these...weird dreams lately,” Daikoku began. “Well, I say dreams, but they feel real. It’s a world where Daigo is gone, and Kofuku and I grew closer together instead of apart. It’s getting to the point where I’m forgetting which one is real. What is happening to me?”

Yato’s spine stiffened, and before he knew it he was responding. “What if I told you those weren’t dreams?”

“For once in my life, I wouldn’t say you were off your rocker. You know anything about that?” Daikoku gave him a sidelong glance.

“We...yeah. At Kofuku’s request, we performed a little experiment that changed the past.” Yato felt himself balancing on a precarious edge, so tempted to spill everything to his landlord and face the consequences later. But for a reason he couldn’t articulate, he held himself back and let Daikoku speak.

“I knew it,” he finally said. “That night really messed Kofuku up, and she was never the same. I could tell she always regretted letting him go. Hell, _I_ regretted it too. But I can feel these two realities in my head, and it’s driving me crazy. Which one is right?”

“I can fix it,” Yato said slowly. “I can help you turn it back to how it was. I just need to know it’s the right choice.”

“What happens if I disagree?”

“Yukine dies tonight, and there’s not a thing in the goddamn world that can prevent it.”

Daikoku flinched. “So it’s my kid’s life for your kid’s life.”

Yato clenched his jaw. “I wish there were literally any other way to do this. But there isn’t. I’ve tried so many times...Daikoku, I’m so sorry.”

Daikoku remained silent for a while, wearing his cigarette to a nub. “These last few years have felt like a dream. A wonderful, beautiful dream. But it’s time to wake up.”

“Are you sure?” Yato already hated having to go behind Kofuku’s back like this, but it was clear she wouldn’t budge.

“No, I’m not sure.” He laughed sadly. “I really wish Kofuku had asked me before she’d done this. I would have talked her out of it. Things weren’t supposed to go this way, were they?”

“In another reality, they might have.” Yato drew a knee to his chest, staring at the quiet, empty street. “Just not the one I know.”

“And you’re asking _me_ for Kofuku’s number because…?”

Yato winced. “I tried asking Kofuku, seeing as this was her idea. But, uh, it didn’t go well.” He rubbed his still-sore cheek.

Daikoku nodded. “She must remember how it was before too. But she doesn’t want to accept it, so she took it out on you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Yato said again. “The last thing I want to do is hurt either of you.”

“Then promise me one thing.” Daikoku stood up and dropped his cigarette to the ground. “Make it right.”

Yato thought of the future facing him, the ultimatum he refused to dwell on. “Yeah.”

They headed upstairs to find Yukine passed out on the couch, his video game still on and clutched in his hands. Yato saved and turned it off, then draped a blanket over him. Yukine twitched but didn’t wake. His chest still rose and fell, though Yato could feel 8PM closing in on them like a vise.

Yato looked back at Daikoku to see a pained smile on his face, and maybe a tear, but it was gone too quickly to tell for sure.

He set the timer on the Coo Phone (Name TBA) and turned to Daikoku. “It’s ready.”

Daikoku showed him his phone. There were two message drafts saved. “This won’t mess anything up, will it?”

Yato read them and suppressed a shudder. “I doubt it.”

The first was to Daigo, and simply read _I love you_. The second was to Kofuku and similarly brief: _Come back home_.

“She should get back around the same time as the police,” Daikoku explained. As Yato started the countdown, he sent the first, then paused. “Thank you for the years you’ve given us, Yato. I’ll try not to forget them.”

_You will._

**_0.523307_ **

One left.

As the lab reformed around him, Yato saw a similar scene to the one he’d just left. Yukine was fast asleep on the couch and Hiyori was back at her hotel for the night. The main difference was that the Coo Phone (Name TBA) and time-leap machine sat silent on the computer desk.

Instead of going to sleep himself, Yato took a seat in the armchair, staring at his phone screen. Finally he swallowed his nerves and dialed Hiyori. She picked up right away.

“Hi, what’s up? I just got out of the shower, so if it’s urgent, you’ll have to wait until I get dressed.”

Yato smiled. “It’s not urgent. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

She laughed. “You’re so weird. But seriously, is everything okay?”

He said nothing and stared at a hole in his sock.

“...Yato? Are you there?”

“I’m here. Um...Tell me a story. Can’t sleep.”

“Well, okay. What kind of story?”

Yato raised an eyebrow. “Tell me your desires...Or, something you like, I guess.”

She went quiet for a minute. “Okay...this is kind of embarrassing. But I’ve always wanted monogrammed silverware.”

Yato was taken aback. Of all the things to learn about Hiyori, that had not been one he’d expected. “You mean like, forks and knives with ‘IH’ engraved on the handles?”

“It’s stupid, I know! But it’s been a secret dream of mine. I haven’t told anyone, except you just now. So there you go.”

“That’s, uh, very cute, Hiyori.”

“Oh, don’t say it like that,” she groaned. “It just sounds like you’re making fun of me.”

“No, I mean it! It _is_ very cute.”

“Thanks, I guess. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now, or should I bare the rest of my secrets while I’m at it?”

Yato yawned very loudly. “No need to. I think I’ll be able to sleep now. Thank you, Hiyori. Good night.”

“Good night, Yato. Love you.”

The line clicked, and Yato was left staring at his phone for several minutes.

* * *

Not so far away, Hiyori sat on her bed wearing nothing but a towel, hand frozen over the call button. Unwittingly, she’d just let another secret slip.

* * *

Slowly, robotically, Yato moved toward the time-leap machine. He couldn’t have heard her right. It was a mistake. It had to be.

**[8/22/18 19:56:03]**

Returning to just a few minutes ago, Yato called Hiyori again, and they had the same conversation. Again, she let those words slip as she hung up.

**[8/22/18 19:55:58]**

He called again. She told him again.

He kept repeating their conversation, and it fell into a routine of sorts. They’d chat for a bit, then hang up. No matter what he said, she’d say the same words as an afterthought. No misinterpreting her; her intent was clear.

Finally, Yato time-leapt without calling her. Her yet unspoken goodbye kept bouncing around the inside of his head.

_Love you._

* * *

Hiyori rejoined them the following afternoon. If anything, the reveal of her feelings had done nothing to alleviate Yato’s anxiety about undoing the remaining D-Mail.

Because if Yato’s goal was to undo _all_ the D-Mails, the first one he’d sent hadn’t been the lottery one after all. 

No, the true first D-Mail had been one he’d sent to Yukine on a distant summer afternoon. Changing the world line from one where Iki Hiyori was dead to one where she was alive.

It was the truth he’d been running from all this time. And now, poised to undo the lottery D-Mail and set himself back on track, he couldn’t do it.

The drafted mail sat on Yato’s phone while the other two goofed off, blissfully unaware of their imminent doom. Hiyori was the only person he trusted to help him work through it, and now his dedication to setting things right was about to kill her too.

He hastily excused himself and climbed to the roof, trying to steady his breathing as he looked at the hazy sky above. There was too much light pollution for him to make out more than a few stars, but he usually liked looking at them anyway. They reminded him of someone he’d lost. But tonight, he couldn’t bear to face them and turned his head away.

The thought of losing Hiyori terrified him. Over these last three weeks that he’d relived dozens of times, they’d bonded more than he’d ever thought possible. She was smart as hell, and fiercely loyal and dependable too. He’d been fighting all this time to save Yukine’s life, but how could he just leave Hiyori to die? Her blurted confession aside, every time he’d lost his way, she’d been there to help him up and give him a push when he needed it. And despite using it hundreds of times, the time-leap machine she’d invented had always worked perfectly.

Yukine was young and innocent, but so was she. A prodigy with a bright future. Destined for bigger and better things than dying at the age of eighteen.

The brief thought of regressing to the original attractor field and trying to prevent her death there crossed Yato’s mind, but he quickly brushed it aside. As he’d learned the hard way with Yukine, when the universe wanted someone dead it did a damn good job of ensuring it’d happen. And the prospect of going through all that a second time crushed his resolve before he even built it up. Those long, hopeless nights, the frenzy of racing against the clock, not knowing how it would happen but being sure it _would_...it was too much for him to handle. Besides, if Hiyori had died, there would be no time-leap machine to take him back to August 4th.

Yato dropped to his knees. Was there no winning? Was he doomed to lose one friend or the other to the inexorable hand of fate, or the gods, or whatever cosmic force was determined to make him fail?

It was so unfair to give him a choice that wasn’t much of a choice at all. The gods were mocking him for being painfully, miserably human.

The worst part of all was that he now knew, as he inched to the building’s edge, that even if he threw himself off this roof, or the highest rooftop in Tokyo, he’d survive somehow. Convergence prevented his death, just as it was ensuring Yukine’s or Hiyori’s.

So he refused to play their game. The whole day went by, and Yato kept to himself.

Then it happened again, as Yato had known it would. Yukine collapsed out of nowhere, and there was nothing they could do to save him.

As Yato gritted his teeth and prepared to do the usual to jump back, he caught his friend’s last words.

“Yato...where are you…? It’s so dark...where….”

**[8/21/18 20:43:52]**

He returned to just after he’d stormed to the rooftop last time, trying to shake off what he’d just seen. It was something he thought he’d grown numb to, but at the same time, seeing Yukine dying once more reminded him of what he’d been fighting for all this time. This time, his friend hadn’t died because of Yato’s ignorance. He’d died because Yato was taking the coward’s way out.

And he was about to die again.

The next countless loops, Yato tried everything.

He sat on the sofa, ignoring his friends’ attempts to reach out and wishing he could disappear into the filthy upholstery.

(Yukine still died.)

With Yukine’s help, he hacked Yomi’s network and brought the whole system down.

(Yukine still died.)

He took Yukine to South America, a world away from Japan and a place where no one he knew would be able to reach him.

(Yukine still died.)

He time-leapt again and again, his methods becoming increasingly frenzied, until one time he simply froze, hand hovering over the _Enter_ key on the computer.

It hit him like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t going to be able to prevent his friend’s death. He already knew that. So why was he still trying?

“Yato?” Hiyori looked over at him and noticed the time-leap machine activated and ready to go. She frowned. “Hey. What do you think you’re do—”

**[8/21/18 21:23:12]**

_Right. That’s why._

He grimaced and peeled himself off the sofa, ignoring Hiyori’s continued stares despite the time change. She probably suspected something was up—smart as she was, she always did.

He climbed up to the roof and sat facing the building’s edge, only half aware of what he was doing.

If he had known all along this was how everything would end up, how someone he cared about was fated to die no matter what, Yato now knew he would have never bothered with the time machine. It wasn’t worth this. Nothing was.

A door creaking shut behind him made him jump, but it was just Hiyori. She leaned down, watching him with concern. “So? What’s up?”

Yato glanced away, afraid she would be able to see the truth in his eyes. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not? I can handle it—”

“It’s not that.” His voice came out harsher than he intended, and Hiyori looked startled. “Sorry. I’m just—There’s a lot in my head right now. I don’t know what to make of it all.”

“It’s okay,” she said, sitting cross-legged across from him, eyes fixed on the faint stars overhead. “I’ll be here all night for whenever you’re ready to tell me about it.”

She let out a faint laugh. “Man, the view from here sucks. Concrete in four directions and nothing to see.”

Yato followed her gaze up, wincing in the cold glare of the stars that seemed more distant than ever. “There sure isn’t. But it was as cheap as I could get, so it’s home.”

“Must be nice.” Her voice was wistful. “Being in college from such a young age...I love learning and all, but I also feel like nowhere is my home.” Her cheeks pinked. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to start talking about myself—you were saying?”

“No, no, I don’t mind. Is the view of the night sky any better in America?”

Hiyori drew her knees up to her chest. “Well, not in the cities. But when you go out to the countryside, you can see more than you ever thought was possible. The Milky Way. All the constellations you learned about in school. Even other planets. Looking at the sky is another form of time travel, you know? The light we see comes from millions and millions of years ago. I’d love to see how those stars and planets look today.”

She glanced over at him. “Sorry, I’m rambling again. Truth is, in another life I’d be studying space. But I’m equally fascinated with unraveling the human mind, so here we are.”

Yato said nothing and simply watched her for a while as she turned her face back to the sky, leaning against the railing and closing her eyes. The night air was comfortable, and a warm breeze blew over their skin.

“Hiyori,” he began, after the words in his chest grew too big to stay there, “would you be happy if you didn’t know me?”

She opened her eyes and looked back at him, a frown etching its way onto her face. “What do you mean?”

He glanced away again. “I mean, if none of... _this_ were to happen.” He gestured around. “Say you didn’t come back to Japan for the summer. You would never have met me, or Yukine, or any of the others…Would you be okay with that?”

“Are you saying—”

“Just...answer the question, please, Hiyori.”

She crossed her arms. “Well, if I never came here, I wouldn’t know I was missing anything, really. But I think I was pretty lonely, and this felt like the first place I truly belonged. So if we never met...I’d be sad. That said, I like to think we were always fated to meet each other anyway.”

Hiyori ducked her head. “Sorry. Is it weird, a scientist talking about fate and stuff? I just get the feeling we’d run into each other no matter what.”

Yato smiled. “It’s not weird. I’m glad you feel that way.”

“Mm. So...why bring this up?”

Yato bit his lip. “Hiyori...if it came to it...would you blame me...if I had to trade your life for Yukine’s?”

Her eyes widened. “Yato...what are you saying?”

He clenched his fists. “I didn’t want to tell you, but...In the world line I started in, you died on August 4th. My text informing Yukine of your passing kicked us over to an attractor field where you live and he dies—inevitably.”

Hiyori looked like he’d slapped her in the face, but he plowed on. “To save Yukine, I think I have to undo my first D-Mail before my dad finds out about it. He was able to determine that you were a person of interest and trace our exact location all based on the D-Mails, starting with that one. I’ve traded everyone’s happiness, and risked it all, for this. I’ve had to see Yukine die so many times, and right when I thought finally I’d catch a break, well….”

For the first time since he’d known her, Iki Hiyori looked utterly lost. “There’s...there’s got to be a world line where neither of us die, though, right? Out of all the possibilities?”

“I don’t know anymore,” he said bitterly. “I’ve been trying so hard to save him, repeating days over and over...I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve relived the past week. I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this. But it seems like someone has to die no matter what I do.”

She still looked shocked at the prospect of her own death looming on the horizon. But she also looked like she had realized something. “Yato, lately I’ve been having these dreams. In them, you keep coming to me, asking me to help you save Yukine. You always look so desperate, I want to do everything I can to help. So we put our heads together and devise a plan. And then it all just happens again. But these dreams...they’re not dreams, are they?” Hiyori looked him in the eye. “They’re memories. Memories of another me, in another life, maybe, but memories all the same. And you’ve lived through all of that.”

Yato was taken aback. It seemed like she, too, had vague recognition of the other world lines despite him undoing them. Perhaps his ability to retain his memories across divergence was not so unique after all, just stronger than the natural déjà vu others experienced.

She seemed to take his silence as a confirmation and laced her fingers together in her lap, dropping her eyes to them. She nodded to herself a few times, then looked back up. “So I have to die to save my friend’s life? That’s how it works?”

Yato nodded reluctantly. “It seems that way.”

Hiyori’s lips quirked in an unexpected smile. “Then that’s how we beat this thing!”

He stared at her, uncomprehending. “...What?”

“Don’t you see?”

He shook his head.

“This is all happening from your perspective. But those world lines you’ve undone—well, you haven’t really undone them, have you? The _you_ you’ve left behind just continues on with life in an infinite number of spaces. We can’t normally discern divergence ourselves, so to everyone else, things are still the same in _every_ iteration. Basically, what I’m saying is, once you leave this world line, I’ll still exist right here. From my perspective, I’ll live out my life. So I won’t be gone.”

Yato watched her for a long moment. Hiyori was still smiling, but her eyes shone with tears she couldn’t quite conceal, even in the darkness.

“Is that really the best you’ve got?” he muttered.

“I’d like to see you come up with something better!” she retorted, her voice breaking. She buried her head in her hands. “God, Yato! Can you really blame a girl for trying to rationalize her own death?”

He let out a sigh. “No, I really can’t. I’m sorry. If that’s how you want to cope with it, I won’t stop you.”

He thought that her fractured attempt to make sense of the situation wouldn’t do much good anyway. In this world line, Yukine was still doomed to die. Then Yato and Hiyori would be hunted relentlessly by his father, and eventually cornered, captured, and forced to work for him. There was no happy ending here.

No, he had to move forward instead of being trapped by the past.

“So you know what you have to do, right?” Hiyori leaned in. “You have to let me go. Save Yukine. You’re not going to be able to rest until you do.”

Knowing she was right, Yato relented. “You’re really okay with this?”

“Of course I’m not! I don’t want to die, Yato. I’m terrified of it.” She sniffled. “But I also don’t want you to suffer anymore. Besides, you never knew me. You’re just returning things to how they’re supposed to be.”

_That doesn’t make it hurt any less._

She looked so fragile in that moment, like one wrong move would break her apart. Unable to help himself, he wrapped his arms around her. She curled against his chest.

The two halves of a broken human sat in silence for what felt like hours, making the most of the terrible view from the apartment rooftop.

“Hey, Yato?” Hiyori said after a while. She lifted her head and faced him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think there’s life out there?” She gestured toward the sky glowing sickly orange with Tokyo’s light. “Like, somewhere among the stars?”

“I mean, statistically it’s almost impossible there _wouldn’t_ be—”

“Oh, enough with the statistics. I’m asking about your feelings as a human. What do you feel here?” She tapped his chest.

Biting back a retort about how the heart wasn’t responsible for emotions, Yato tried to think of a more emotionally intelligent way to phrase his reply. But he couldn’t so much as glance at the stars when Hiyori was just in front of him. She was so stunning, even here, lit by the persistent yet finite glow of distant lights that did complexion no favors normally.

He swallowed. “I think...I think that the universe is too beautiful for the human race to be the only ones to appreciate it.”

Hiyori smiled. “ _That’s_ the response I was looking for.” She leaned forward and kissed him once, gently, on the lips.

“I’m sorry. I had to do that, just once, before I...”

Her words got progressively softer until they were the barest whisper, so quiet Yato wasn’t sure if he’d imagined them or not.

“ _Please don’t forget me._ ”

He cemented his unspoken promise by kissing her back. Again and again and again their lips met; all of the desperation they couldn’t express falling around them like so many grains of sand. Creating a memory he hoped was strong enough to live with him forever.

Too soon, they drew apart.

Yato felt tears on his cheeks. He didn’t know whose they were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed Part 2! Part 3 should be on its way shortly as well.


	3. Convergence

**Part 3: Convergence**

Yato and Hiyori met outside her hotel the following day. She had with her a large suitcase; he supposed it contained everything she’d brought from America. She was heading back a little early before the semester started, though whether it was related to their talk, he couldn’t say. Giving him a sad smile, she started walking to the station.

This was it, then. After he made the jump, he’d be back in the beta attractor field, a bleak world where she was dead.

Before that happened, he wanted to drink in every last second he had with Hiyori. Every action she took he burned into his memory—how she skipped over cracks in the sidewalk, how her hands fidgeted with her suitcase handle, how she brushed her hair behind her ear when lost in thought. He was headed to a world where no one else would remember this version of her, the one who had so bravely had his back. He would be alone, isolated. But she was worth the risk.

Yato glanced at Hiyori. She kept her chin high and back straight, but her trembling hands betrayed her otherwise brave posture.

“Don’t,” she said as she caught him looking. “I don’t need your pity. I made this choice on my own.”

Either way, it was his fault she was making it at all. He would undo the final D-Mail, and his father would never realize she was an asset. And though Yato knew his father still might come after him someday, he would find nothing tangible. Because Yato was planning to trash his one successful invention.

He didn’t feel bad about it. The Coo Phone (Name TBA) had never truly been _his_. He’d cobbled it together from scraps and half excerpts of his father’s research. Out of his own inventions, not one had succeeded.

He was nothing but a sham, and he was returning to the world line where it was so. No time machine to his name. Just a self-proclaimed scientist with a shady past, no money, and a high school-aged roommate.

And that was the way it had to be to keep Yukine safe.

They arrived at the station. Yato looked into Hiyori’s eyes one last time, and instead of saying anything, she wrapped her arms around him.

Yato put everything he had into that final hug, trying desperately to memorize the precise warmth of her body against his before the last of the sand fell and the hourglass was empty for good.

“Maybe it’s stupid, but I really think there’s a world out there where neither of us dies.” Her voice was muffled, but it sounded like the tears had started to fall.

Yato couldn’t speak. Lying to her face and speaking the truth were both equally abhorrent.

“Even if it’s hypothetical, you should name it,” Hiyori continued. “How about...Takamagahara, after the eternal home of the gods.”

“Takamagahara...I like it.”

She nodded against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“And Hiyori, I promise you this: I will never, _ever_ forget you.”

“I love you.” Her reply was simple, but with it were all the emotions they’d shared ever since they’d met. It felt like a lifetime ago for Yato, but for her it had hardly been three weeks.

They stepped apart, arms still reaching for each other and falling to their sides.

“Farewell.” She spun away and pressed a sleeve to her nose. Dragging that giant suitcase behind her, she walked toward the station entrance. Yato remained motionless as her back grew smaller and smaller, until she disappeared into the crowd entirely. And then he stood watching for a while after that. Perhaps some part of him was waiting for her to change her mind and fly back into his arms, but the minutes ticked onward.

Despite the heat, he felt chilled to his core.

**_0.571046_ **

The lottery D-Mail had been simple to undo—Yato had simply told himself it would draw too much attention. Now he was at the final stage of his plan.

But if there were even the slightest chance of Yukine’s survival on this world line, Yato knew he wouldn’t be able to make the final jump until he had a definitive answer.

It still broke his heart to wait for something he already knew was pointless.

That night, Yukine died again, and again Yato felt his own powerlessness crushing him. As his friend’s breathing stopped, he turned his back and set the time-leap machine to do one last jump.

**[8/23/18 12:43:56]**

Yukine had hacked into Yomi and tracked down the ID of that original D-Mail. The one Yato’s father had somehow intercepted, thus painting a target on all of their backs, changing Hiyori from “a threat” to “useful,” and setting in motion forces far beyond his control. It was also the last bastion of hope to save Yukine’s life.

Yukine highlighted the line and motioned to the backspace key. “Ready to go when you are.”

Yato gritted his teeth. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

His finger hovered over the keyboard. Hiyori’s tear-streaked face flashed through his mind.

_I’m sorry._

He hit the key, and the lab started melting away.

In the next moment, he thought he could hear Hiyori’s voice calling out to him, but then it was gone, and so was she.

**_1.130205_ **

The first thing Yato did after shaking off the disorientation of the final world line change was dismantle the Coo Phone (Name TBA) down to the screws and toss the whole thing between several dumpsters. Some part of him was sorry he and Yukine were simply discarding a priceless invention, but it had caused too much misery.

Once that was done, exhaustion swept over Yato. He retreated to the sofa and spent the next three days drifting in and out of sleep, catching up on all the hours he’d missed over those endless days. Every so often he startled himself awake, making sure Yukine was still there. No one came after them, so at last he breathed a sigh of relief.

Hiyori stayed on his mind, of course. Yato checked the news so often he started dreaming she was alive after all, that her death was somehow a mistake. In his subconscious, she was happy and lively, and he pulled her aside during Tanabata to tell her he was madly in love with her but hadn’t had the courage to say it yet. He saw so clearly the corners of her lips turn up into a smile, then she tilted her head back and laughed, and told him she knew, she’d known for a long time. To make him feel a little better, she admitted she’d been working up the courage too. They kissed right there under the fireworks; then he pulled her toward a spot where they’d have a little more privacy.

He woke with a start after such dreams, still feeling her lips against his, the soreness in his throat making him think he’d cried out in his sleep. Despite the racket he was causing, not one word of complaint passed Yukine’s mouth.

As they’d been taking apart the time machine, Yato had finally told Yukine everything. The true story of how he’d fled from his father, all the D-Mails they’d sent, how Yukine kept dying, the horror of the time-leaping he’d done. Finally, the choice he’d made to save him. Instead of being surprised, Yukine nodded slowly like it was just the last piece of a puzzle. He, too, remembered bits and pieces of how it had been before.

“Thank you for saving me,” was all he said. That and, “You don’t have to hide it anymore. I know you’re hurt. But we’re safe now.”

A tear streaked down Yato’s cheek. That was all the warning he had before the dam broke and he was crying like a child.

It was over. Yukine was safe. But the price had been Hiyori’s life. Yato knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he’d eventually be able to accept the reality he’d never see her again, but for now it was all so fresh. He’d seen her hardly a day ago, barely holding it together as she bade him farewell.

On this world line, she’d been dead for weeks. It’d been mentioned in passing on the news—a brilliant young scientist murdered under mysterious circumstances.

* * *

“I’m heading to the store. Do you want anything?” Yukine asked.

 _I want Hiyori back_ , Yato almost said, but his friend’s expression stopped him.

So he buried his face into his pillow instead of answering, wishing for all the world that it would smother him.

Yukine sighed and left, but was back within ten minutes. He deposited a plastic bag around where Yato was curled up. “Here. I got you those melty cheese buns.”

Yato said nothing.

“Well? Are you going to eat them?”

Still nothing.

“...Okay, I’ll leave them out for you. But you better not let them go stale, or I will end you.” His threat lacked the usual venom.

Instead of taking a seat in the armchair, Yukine perched on the sofa’s arm. When he began to speak, it was a story Yato had never heard before but one he found strangely familiar nonetheless. A story of a boy who had run from his father and sought salvation in Akihabara. Except this boy’s name had been Tajima Haruki.

“So you see,” said Yukine, voice uncharacteristically shaky, “you had already saved my life by the time all this started happening. Because I know had I stayed, he would have killed me. But you gave me a home I felt safe in. You took me in, no questions asked, and let me stay with you free of charge.” He sighed. “My point is, you blame yourself for everything, but you’ve always had a good heart. Please don’t let this eat you alive. You did what you had to.”

Yato clenched his teeth against the sob that was fighting its way out, and lost the battle.

* * *

The call came in on the afternoon of the third day. The sun was sinking in the sky; Yato lay in a haze as he had for the last few days, his energy so utterly waned that it was all he could do to eat or use the bathroom every once in a while. Yukine sat by him, pretending to read a book while his hands fidgeted.

Yato’s phone rang. He ignored it. The only person he’d answer a call from was dead.

The phone went quiet, then started buzzing again. This happened four more times before Yukine finally looked up.

“Yato, can you answer that? Or turn your phone off?”

Yato said nothing and turned his face away. The phone rang again; Yukine huffed and snatched it up.

“Hello? Who is this?” He listened for a few seconds, eyebrows disappearing into his bangs. “Yato, when were you gonna tell me you have a sister?”

* * *

They were at the top of the radio tower in ten minutes. It turned out there was another thing that could successfully force Yato from his stupor—a phone call from his sister, whom he hadn’t seen in more than two years.

On the other end of the rooftop from where they stood, a large, metallic object that looked like a satellite glittered in the setting sun. A door hissed and swung open, steam faintly trailing from within. A stepladder lowered, and slowly a figure emerged. It was a woman in her thirties, black hair neatly styled so not so much as a strand was out of place.

“Is that really you…?” he croaked, voice hardly above a whisper. “Hiiro…?”

She stepped onto the rooftop and reached for Yato. He blinked a few times; she didn’t disappear.

“Yato, I’m so sorry to just come here like this, but I need your help,” she said, lowering her arms.

He eyed the contraption with suspicion. “What?”

Hiiro grimaced. “I’ll explain as quickly as I can—I come from about twenty years in your future. Father has succeeded in creating a time machine and plunged the world into chaos.” She shook her head. “Just like he always wanted.”

Yato took a step back. “So that thing…”

“It’s a time machine. That’s how I got here. Yato, I need you to help me. There’s going to be a war. World War III, in fact. Billions of people are going to die, but we can prevent it.”

He snorted and sank to the ground. “You think I care about that? Messing with time only leads to disaster. Trust me, I’m an expert.”

Yukine looked alarmed, and more than a little pissed, but Yato ignored him. He wouldn’t understand—there was no drive left inside him. He’d spent all he had to save his friend’s life.

A soft smile lit Hiiro’s features. “I thought you might say that. Yato, what if I told you that the key to stopping another world war was to save Iki Hiyori’s life?”

He froze, cold sweat gathering on his neck. Was this a dream? It certainly felt like one.

His sister, older than the teenager he knew her as, continued speaking. “On August 4th, 2018, Iki Hiyori died. Her death set off a chain of events directly contributing to the successful invention of a time machine and the start of World War III. If you come back to that date with me, we can prevent her death and the war. Will you do it?”

Hiiro’s offer felt like a door had opened right in front of him. An opportunity to save Hiyori...but then. He looked sidelong at Yukine.

Hiiro caught his look and shook her head. “In your future, we were able to calculate the existence of a world line with only 0.081609 percent divergence to this one. It’s believed to lie between attractor fields, meaning convergence doesn’t affect it. Nor does the beta attractor field converge on her death, so it’s possible to save her _and_ reach that new world line.”

“How do you know it exists?” It sounded too good to be true. If there was hope after all...

“It is an unobserved world line, so no one has any idea what lies there. But considering its similarity to the alpha and beta fields, you—because it was you who calculated its existence and formulated the plan to get there—believed it was a world line where Hiyori’s and Yukine’s deaths don’t coincide.” Hiiro tilted her head. “You even named it, too. Takamagahara, after—”

“—After the eternal home of the gods,” Yato finished. A numb, icy feeling was flooding his veins again and he leapt to his feet. “All I have to do is save her, right?”

Hiiro stood too. “Save her and prevent the research she holds from falling into the wrong hands.”

“Then let’s go.”

At his side, Yukine nodded. “Good luck, Yato. I know you can do it.”

Yato looked back at his friend before stepping into the time machine with Hiiro. “I’ll be back real soon. You won’t even know I was gone.”

“Right.”

“Are you ready?” Hiiro asked.

Yato’s mouth tightened around his words but he forced out a nod.

_For Hiyori’s sake, I hope I finish this quickly._

_And if I fail, I hope she can find it in her heart to forgive me._

That feeling? Yato remembered it now. It was determination.

* * *

Inside the time machine, Hiiro set the date for August 4th, then settled back in her seat. Yato followed suit, trying not to stare.

“It’ll take us about three minutes,” Hiiro said in her quiet, musical voice. “Also, don’t mind the lights.”

Yato had hardly opened his mouth to ask what she meant before small, multicolored beads bubbled out of nowhere in the air, then drifted up and disappeared. A side effect of time travel, he supposed. He lifted a hand to try and grab one, and Hiiro began to speak.

* * *

In the year 2026, as soon as the disgraced scientist they knew as Father announced that he had created the blueprints to a successful time machine, governments all over the world sent both friends and foes to Yomi for a shot at changing the past. Father had no interest in ruling the world, though, and was instead content to let everyone try to outbid each other with war and deception while he took their money, evaded authorities, and destroyed his own time machine and the research with it after setting up a comfortable fortune for himself.

Locked in Yomi’s compound her whole life, Hiiro had never seen firsthand the destruction her family had wrought, but she saw the news from time to time. At first she watched it with a disinterested expression. All the plagues, famine, and drought that swept the world were none of her concern.

Meanwhile, her brother had been retrieved. Once they’d said Yukine could stay there too, unbothered and unharmed, Yato conceded to having his brain picked. Mostly, though, Father used the research he’d had stolen from a dead girl by the name of Iki Hiyori.

Yato grabbed Hiiro’s wrist as she left his quarters one day. “ _Help her_ ,” he whispered in her ear.

At first she’d had half a mind to tell Father. But Yato had always cared about her.

She started taking in the news with more interest. Inside those sterile, white walls where no emotion was allowed, something started stirring inside her nonetheless. She didn’t have the words for it yet, but it felt like a fire burning from within. She wanted to help these people. She wanted to prevent this tragedy from ever occurring.

Yato was under too heavy of watch to give her direct assistance, but Father never expressed interest in what she was up to, so her disappearances went unnoticed.

“You’re a good girl, unlike your troublesome brother,” he would always tell her, giving her a smile and patting her hair.

Using Yato’s ideas and research, Hiiro was able to recreate Father’s blueprinted time machine by the year 2039. She wasn’t sure if it would work, but they had no time to test it. Father had sensed something was amiss.

She went to bid Yato farewell. For the last twenty years, he’d been living under comfortable house arrest. He looked up when she entered, eyes deepened by circles that refused to fade. He looked much older than he was in contrast to her apparent refusal to age, but gave a smile anyway.

“Hiiro. Is it done?”

“Yes. I’m about to find out if it works.” She embraced him, the first time they’d touched in decades.

He hugged her back. “I guess this is goodbye then.”

“No.” She shook her head firmly. “We’ll meet again in a better world.”

“Right. Of course we will.”

The fire inside Hiiro was burning so brightly she thought she could feel its warmth expanding to fill every cavity in her chest. All the feelings Father had tried so hard to cultivate to his own needs and hide away under the guise of weakness were starting to break open for the first time.

Father’s original research team had been gone for years—either seeking asylum overseas or ending up mysteriously murdered. His paranoia was a deadly disease. But even in his wildest delusions he had never, ever imagined that Hiiro would betray him. Not when she’d been so obedient, never questioning nor second-guessing him. First time for everything, though it would also be her last.

The time machine was tiny, hidden away in an abandoned, dusty room where she’d been tinkering away at it for years, snatching up parts here and there. No interns were left to take wrong turns and stumble upon something they shouldn’t have.

Hiiro gave one last look around the place she’d called home her entire life, and found she was unimpressed. Setting the date for more than twenty years in the past, she breathed deeply and vanished.

**[8/4/18 12:01:08]**

They touched down on the rooftop of the radio building and were immediately business as usual. Yato swallowed his unsteady nerves and hopped outside, surveying the scene.

It was a sunny, already blisteringly hot day. Just as he remembered.

Hiiro checked a wristwatch and tossed it to him. “We have about thirty minutes until the murder takes place. Keep your phone off, as it may cross with your past self’s. Speaking of which, don’t let your past self see you. It could cause a major time paradox.”

“Aren’t we cutting it a little close?” Yato muttered.

“I don’t expect a time machine on the Akiba radio tower to go unnoticed for very long. Sorry, but this is all the time we get.”

They heaved open the door at the other end of the rooftop, then Yato slunk into the stairwell while Hiiro stayed back to prime the time machine for their return, promising to rendezvous with him when done.

As Yato descended, he tried to recall the order of events. From what he remembered, he’d stormed out of Bishamon’s lecture and, after a brief talk with Hiyori, headed down to the ground floor where he’d found her body. That couldn’t have been later than 12:30.

Yato took the steps to the lobby three at a time in his haste. Once at the bottom, he opened the door and stepped right into someone entering the building.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I—”

He froze. Standing in front of him was none other than Iki Hiyori, very much alive.

He’d almost forgotten in his frenzy to save her life, that...she’d be there. Unharmed as of yet, but still looking at him with a blank expression.

Of course, she didn’t know him yet.

“You’re...Iki Hiyori…,” he breathed, hand unconsciously lifting from his side and reaching for her.

She frowned and sidestepped the hand. “Yes. That’s me. Um...do I know you?”

“I…” All the things he wanted to tell her whirled around his head. A very large part of him just wanted to kiss her until they were both breathless, but then he remembered she was going to die in mere minutes.

Unless he did something to stop it.

Instead of continuing his thought, he ducked past her and vanished into the crowd outside the radio tower.

“Wait!” Hiyori called back, her voice already fading into background noise. From the big clock outside double-checked against his watch, he could see that he still had fifteen minutes to go. And by his memory, he remembered Hiyori coming upstairs, talking to him, then heading back downstairs, only for his past self to follow a minute later.

He barely had enough time to figure out who had killed her. He narrowed his eyes, looking for any suspicious figures.

A man loitering just off to the side of the radio tower entrance caught his eye. He was discreetly checking his watch, presumably waiting for a taxi but standing directly in the hot sun. And perched on his forehead...a mask that could almost pass for a kabuki souvenir but with a single large eye painted on it instead. _Bingo._

Yato strolled right past him, relying on the crowd to conceal him, then slipped behind the man. A few quick jabs to pressure points and he collapsed. Yato grabbed him by the armpits and hauled him to the roadside.

“Too much sun, eh?” he called out. “I’ll call you a cab.”

Instead, he swiped the mask and pulled it down over his own eyes. Then he grabbed the man’s knife, moving to the radio tower entrance. Now his face was covered, but another problem was lingering. One of the Rounders was here, in broad daylight. Were they responsible for Hiyori’s death?

But they only obeyed his father and acted on no one else’s behalf. An icy realization crawled down Yato’s neck in spite of the heat. That would mean….

“Ah, there you are.” The voice cut easily through the crowd, and Yato fought his stiffened spine to turn and face his father.

And in spite of all of his instincts screaming otherwise, he bowed deeply.

His father ignored him, glancing at the clock Yato had just been looking at a minute before. “My contact is scheduled to arrive in four minutes. Is everything ready?”

Not trusting himself to speak and give himself away, Yato nodded. _His contact?_

Slowly, the pieces fell into place. She’d mentioned going to a meeting when he’d first run into her. She’d wanted to speak with Bishamon, who had just published a thesis on time travel. The thesis had been developed with some colleagues. And he could just barely remember a folder in her hands. She’d been waiting to deliver it to his father, only for him to double-cross and kill her.

He should have kept a closer eye on Hiyori. He should have warned her. Clearly she hadn’t known who she was colluding with, but either way things were about to end very badly.

It was too late to worry about his missed opportunities now. She was already on her way to meet his father, research that could end the world as they knew it in hand, and he was supposed to...what, kill her?

This certainly complicated things. His father was too smart to let him slide without a plan. Hiiro had said it was possible to save her life. He sure as hell hoped so.

The seconds ticked down until Iki Hiyori stepped back outside, looking around before Yato’s father escorted her over with a friendly wave.

“Iki Hiyori, right? It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”

“It’s an honor to meet you as well.” She bowed, and Yato fought back a gag. “Shall we get right to business?”

“I can hardly wait another moment,” his father said, his voice flat. “Let’s see those notes you’ve been working on.”

“Yes, I was going to consult Bishamon for some pointers, but I got here too late and she’d already begun her lecture. I suppose I’ll ask her afterward, but in the meantime, do you want to see what I’ve got?”

“Certainly.” Yato’s father shot a pointed look at him as he took the folder, and Yato stepped just behind Hiyori’s shoulder, wincing at how it felt to be so close to her again.

Hiyori glanced sidelong at Yato, her eyes narrowing. “What’s this about?”

Yato’s father ignored her, flipping through the notes. “Hmm, yes, this is all very good. Better than I thought, even. I need more time to go in-depth on everything, but I think you really have something promising here.”

“Good. In that case, give me back my notes and we can talk about it more when there’s more to show you.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention you won’t be getting these back.” Yato’s father grinned, and Yato felt his stomach turn. “Please take good care of our esteemed guest.”

Instead, Yato stepped forward, drawing the knife and pressing it up against his father’s throat.

“I won’t do that, Dad.”

His father looked caught off guard for once. “Yaboku? What the hell are _you_ doing here? And what involvement do you have with Iki?”

“None of your business. Give me back those notes and let Hiyori go.”

“Or what? You’ll slit my throat in front of all these people?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re bluffing. You couldn’t kill me.”

Yato pressed the blade into the artery, drawing a faint strip of blood. “Try me.”

His father cast a wary eye down at the knife and passed the notes back. “Fine. You win. Take them.”

Yato snatched them out of his hand, noticing a second too late how his father’s gaze was directed behind him, and his smile was back in place.

A shadow fell over Yato, and he had just enough time to turn around before the goon he thought he’d knocked out punched him in the face. He went flying and landed in a heap, already feeling the skin around his eye swelling. He’d have one hell of a black eye if he lived to see the following morning. Shocked gasps rang out around him as he struggled to get up.

The Rounder snatched his mask back and stomped on Yato’s left hand, the one clutching the folder. He let out a whimper as he felt two of his fingers break and dropped the folder, holding his hand to his chest.

Hiyori looked from Yato to his father. She opened her mouth to say something—

— _a red dot on the chest_ —

“All clear. Take the shot,” Yato’s father muttered from out of his field of view.

“NO—”

Before either of them could make a move, a bullet whizzed through the air and struck Iki Hiyori right over her heart. She crumpled immediately.

Yato’s father rolled his eyes and picked up the scattered papers just as a car screeched onto the curb. Pedestrians dove out of the way, but Father calmly opened the door and climbed inside. The car sped off again, and Yato was left on the sidewalk, grasping his friend’s body as she struggled to breathe.

“Help...me…,” she whispered, eyes going blank. Her fingers reached toward him, then fell. He clutched her hand like he was dying, not her.

“Hey—hang in there—” he said, all the while knowing that it was useless. She was going to die no matter what he did. It was the same as Yukine after all, and Hiiro had been wrong for once. A fatal error.

He screamed, though it didn’t feel like it was coming from his throat. He was drifting farther and farther away from everything.

A concerned crowd gathered around them, voices floated around his ears asking what their names were, if he knew this girl, and had anyone called an ambulance?

_I failed. I failed. I failed. I…_

“Snap out of it!”

Yato blinked, feeling like he was underwater. Hiiro was back at his side, yanking at his elbow. “Come on. We must get out of here.”

Numb, Yato let her pull him back toward the radio tower entrance, ignoring the nosy onlookers. Seconds after they cleared the crowd, Yato’s past self bounded out the doors, concerned. And unnoticed, they reentered the radio tower and climbed the stairs back up to the rooftop.

“So there were more variables,” Hiiro said, her voice still sounding like it was coming from a hundred miles away. “I suspected Father would be there, but I had no idea about the sniper—we’ll have to neutralize him.”

Yato shot her a look at that. “What the hell do you mean? There’s nothing we can do. She’s going to die, every time, no matter what, and it’s all my fault…” A sob tore through his throat and he gritted his teeth against the pain. His face hurt, his hand hurt, his heart hurt, and he just wanted to go back to sleep. Coming here had been a mistake that made it all worse.

Hiiro just tightened her grip around his shoulders, heaving him back up the stairs and into the belly of the satellite. Yato let her pull him, dazed.

 _Hopeless_ was the only word coming to mind. All that intellect, and all for nothing.

He couldn’t even appreciate the pretty lights this time as they soared three weeks into the future. All he could think about was how Hiyori had been so close. It was even more cruel to give him this dash of hope and snatch it away just as quickly.

Iki Hiyori was dead. That was an irrefutable fact of this world line. Around and around he could go, yet get the same result every time.

* * *

As the time machine rematerialized, Yato was trying to yank the door open before their surroundings fully solidified. The handle was somehow both burning hot and freezing at the same time. The door opened on its own a moment later, and he practically fell out.

“Did it work? Is everything back to normal now?” Yukine was asking, but Yato didn’t answer, crawling on all fours away from the time machine. He began dry-heaving onto the rooftop.

Hiiro answered, her voice sounding as distant as Yukine’s. “He failed once, and...I fear he will not be able to put himself through this a second time.” She rubbed her forehead with delicate fingers perhaps less scarred than they should have been. “I only have enough fuel for one more round trip.”

Yukine knelt next to him. “You _can’t_ give up. You have to save that girl.”

Yato coughed. “No. It’s hopeless. It’s always been hopeless.”

Yukine let out a growl and grabbed Yato by the shirt collar, forcing them to see eye to eye. “Yato. Don’t take the coward’s way out. You have one more chance. So fucking take it.”

Yato turned his face away. “You don’t understand.” How could he? Yato had made damn sure Yukine would never again have to feel the pain of dying alone.

“Damn it, Yato, listen to me—What about all those times you saw _me_ die? No matter how hopeless it was, no matter how little of a chance you had, you never, _ever_ gave up on me. You can’t give up on this girl after only one failure. Hiiro said you could save her. Try again!”

“I….” Yato looked back at Yukine’s earnest face. He was right. It wouldn’t be fair to give up on Hiyori so quickly. Not after he’d fought tooth and nail for Yukine’s survival.

“I...I guess I can give it one last try.”

Yukine let out a sigh and released Yato’s shirt, slumping back on his knees.

Hiiro’s lips pursed. “It’s time, then.”

They both looked at her. “What do you mean?” Yukine asked.

“I have a last resort I was saving for you. Yato, I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, but I’ve lied to you.”

Yato froze. “Did you—”

“I did not betray you to Father. I betrayed you...to yourself.”

Yato and Yukine exchanged a confused glance.

Hiiro continued, “You had to fail once for this to truly succeed. But now that you have, everything is in place. I didn’t want to tell you because I was afraid the prospect of failure would ruin you.”

“You were right,” Yato muttered.

“Check your phone. There should be an email with a video attached. It would have arrived August 4th.”

“What’s in there?”

“Open it and you’ll see.”

Still not really believing he was going through with this, Yato powered his phone back up. Yukine peered over his shoulder as he scrolled through his inbox.

The email struck Yato as vaguely familiar. “Hey, I remember this. It was blank last time.”

“It won’t be now.”

Yato clicked on the video attachment with hesitancy. The video player opened, but the picture was out of focus and dimly lit. A hand reached back from the camera, and a figure straightened up.

“Hello. Hi. Hey there.”

Yato and Yukine both jumped. _That voice._

“It’s me, coming from more than two decades in your—my, our—future.” Yato could hear the grin in the voice, though he still couldn’t make out the face. It had to be _himself_ , speaking from an unfathomable distance away.

“Yato, I bet you’re ready for an intelligent conversation right about now.”

Yato in the present let out a long sigh. “You could say that again.”

“See, I left a pause for you to respond,” the older him continued. “Now this is officially a conversation. I assume Hiiro has already told you that you need to save Hiyori’s life to prevent a third world war. And you wouldn’t be able to open this video without having tried and failed once. You must give it one more shot. With the basics established, I’ll tell you how I think you can find that loophole where Hiyori and Yukine both live. Listen carefully…”

* * *

A few minutes later, the video hit its end and Yato sat back on his heels, overwhelmed.

“Well?” Yukine prompted when he didn’t speak. “That all sounded pretty crazy. Do you think you can do it?”

His older self’s parting words echoed through his head: _Deceive yourself. Deceive the world._ That _is how you succeed._

“I have to. For Hiyori’s sake. It sounds impossible, but it just needs some thought.” Yato forced himself to his feet. “I’m done playing around. Whatever that older me says, this is _my_ choice, and I’m making it for her. For all of us, that we may have a better future than that poor sucker.”

He turned to Yukine, who looked startled by his renewal. “Here’s my card. Get me the following things from the lab and buy the rest.” He began listing off several items, and Yukine scrambled to make a note on his phone.

He ran off; Yato noticed Hiiro side-eyeing him. “What?”

“...Nothing. Just thinking of the plan. And, I suppose, how different you are than I remember you.”

Biting his lip, Yato asked the question he was afraid of the answer to. “What was the me you remember like?”

“You had none of the fire you do now,” said Hiiro.

Yato snorted. “There’s no fire in me. I just want to get this over with. If it fails again, then it fails again and we’re all doomed.”

“A fifty percent chance,” she reminded him. “The toss of a coin will determine our fates. And I hope, for your sake, it lands heads.”

Yato closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. His future self’s speech was ringing in his ears. _My failure gave me the motivation to succeed no matter the cost. A year after I dismantled my first time machine, I realized time travel was the only way, and my research led me back to you. August 4th, 2018 is a major attractor field junction. Go back to where it all began, and change the effect Hiyori’s death has._

The rooftop door reopened, and Yukine returned, passing Yato a plastic shopping bag. “Here. I got everything.”

Yato checked inside it, then looked to Hiiro. “I’m ready. We’ll do it this time.”

**[8/4/18 12:01:08]**

They touched down on the rooftop of the radio building and were immediately business as usual. Yato swallowed his unsteady nerves while Hiiro primed the time machine for their return, then stepped out behind him.

_Change the outcome without changing what you saw. Do this, and you will succeed. Good luck._

“Hey, I just remembered something,” Yato said as they approached the stairwell. “We were already here. Won’t we run into ourselves from my last attempt?”

“No. We figured out that when you repeat the same event due to time travel, the world line is nominally different. So things will happen more or less the same, but we won’t run into us from the last attempt. However, you may still run into yourself of three weeks ago, so be careful.”

“Yeah, I got that part. Ready?”

She nodded and he opened the door. Glancing around to make sure no one was inside, they slipped through and descended together before splitting off around the fourth floor. Hiiro’s job was to neutralize the sniper set up somewhere nearby. Yato’s was to neutralize Hiyori.

He figured there were three possible ways she could die today. First, she could be stabbed by the Rounder’s knife. Second, there was the sniper that had gotten her last time. Third, she could be hit by his father’s getaway car, the same car that had nearly missed her in the beta attractor field. Yato had the first one under control, and Hiiro had given him his word she would handle the second. So the only trouble was the third.

On top of preventing Hiyori’s death, he had to make sure the notes with the time travel research were destroyed. If his father got his hands on them, with or without Hiyori the world was doomed for destruction.

There was, at least, one useful thing Father had taught Yato—how to handle himself under pressure.

He was so lost in his thoughts he almost ran right into Hiyori just outside the radio tower once more.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she said, giving him a cautious smile and slipping past.

 _You have to say something to her. Let her know before it’s too late!_ his brain screamed at him.

“Hey,” he called out. She turned, raising her eyebrows. Her eyes found the rapidly forming bruise on his cheekbone, and a frown creased her face.

He paused. His mind was practically overrun with the things he wanted to tell her, resulting in none of them making it out of his mouth at all.

So for the second time he headed into the crowds without a word, leaving Hiyori shaking her head behind him.

Thoughts turning back to his mental checklist, he tracked down the lone Rounder without much difficulty. But instead of using pressure points, he’d come prepared. Yato edged behind the goon and struck him in the back with the taser Yukine had gotten for him. It had been worth the price tag equaling one month’s rent.

He hadn’t bothered to check the voltage, so the Rounder dropped to the pavement as if someone had flipped a switch. He grabbed the guy’s armpits and heaved him back into an alleyway, avoiding the few pairs of suspicious eyes turned his way.

After stashing the Rounder behind an overflowing garbage bag, Yato bound his hands and feet together for good measure. His broken fingers still hurt like hell, making the knots a challenge, but a perverse satisfaction filled him when he sat back to check his work.

One down. He pried the mask off the man’s head and slipped it over his own, heading back to where he knew his father would appear in moments.

“Ah, there you are.” Despite expecting it, the flat voice still sent a chill down his spine. Yato bowed, hand brushing the taser in his pocket.

His father ignored him, glancing at the clock across the street. “My contact is scheduled to arrive in four minutes. Is everything ready?”

Yato nodded, already sweating through his clothes from some combination of the heat and stress. He wondered if Hiiro had disabled the sniper yet or if he should try to stall his father more.

Hiyori stepped back out and glanced around. His father escorted her over with a friendly wave.

“Iki Hiyori, right? It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”

“It’s an honor to meet you as well.” She bowed, and Yato rolled his eyes despite the palpable tension. “Shall we get right to business?”

“I can hardly wait another moment,” his father said, a shade too sincerely. “Let’s see those notes you’ve been working on.”

“Yes, I was going to consult Bishamon for some pointers, but I got here too late and she’d already begun her lecture. I suppose I’ll ask her afterward, but in the meantime, do you want to see what I’ve got?”

“Certainly.” Yato’s father shot a pointed look at him as he took the folder. Yato seized his chance and drew an arm across Hiyori’s chest, putting the knife he’d stolen from the Rounder in the small of her back. To anyone else, he was hugging her from behind, but in reality her touch burned him. She cast a panicked glance at him.

“What are you—”

“Long time no see,” Yato said. His father’s eyes went wide for a moment, then he composed himself once more.

“Yaboku? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to make you an offer,” he said. “Refuse, and Iki dies.”

Hiyori flinched at that. “Hey—Let me go—I’ll scream—” She struggled in his grip, but stopped when he pushed the knife against her back. He had to look convincing for his father.

“Scream and I’ll slit your throat,” he replied. She blanched.

“Speak your offer, then,” Father said, folding his arms.

“Give me four hours with the research. Then I’ll hand it back to you, fully intact.”

Father laughed. “And why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill this girl right now.”

“On the contrary, you’d be doing me a favor. I just need her ideas. On her own, she’s worthless.” His father’s smug attitude grated on Yato, but he refused to lose his cool.

“Really? You’re not the only one who’s been doing research, you know. Mine shows that there’s a wealth of information in Iki’s head, even if she doesn’t realize it yet.” Yato felt Hiyori trembling under his grip, knees knocking together, and wished he could comfort her.

“You don’t say.” His father looked genuinely interested now.

“This paper is only the beginning,” Yato insisted. “Father, if we take her back to Yomi, I think we could complete our experiments in ten years. Fifteen at the most.”

“What are you talking about?” Hiyori pleaded. “Let me go—I won’t tell anyone—”

“Yaboku, come back with me now,” his father said, paying her no heed. “You can have all the time in the world to look over her research.”

“No. I need to make my own copy. That’s the deal, or I kill her right now.”

Father’s eyes narrowed. Suddenly, as if catching a scent in the air, his head cocked to the side, gaze flicking up to where the sniper was positioned.

“You wouldn’t be trying to trick me, would you, Yaboku?” Something about the slimy sincerity in that question made Yato’s skin crawl. His father smelled a rat, and someone was about to pay the price.

“No,” Yato said, hoping he wouldn’t catch the slight tremor in his voice.

“Really? You weren’t planning to abscond with the girl yourself, taking the research with you? You can try fleeing overseas if you want, but I’ll catch up to you eventually.” There was a glint in his father’s eye that barely concealed his anger.

“No, Father. I love you very much and would never dream of betraying you.” Even to Yato, his voice sounded insincere.

His father stepped back and waved a hand. “Take them out. Non-lethally.”

Yato set his jaw. It was time to find out whether Hiiro had succeeded.

Father’s grin wavered as the seconds dragged on. He lifted a hand to his ear, expression darkening.

“You,” he spat, and took a step forward. Yato flinched but held his ground, gripping the knife as tightly as he could despite his broken fingers.

They were starting to attract a few concerned stares, and he figured they had only seconds before someone spotted the knife and called the police. Was it too much to hope Hiiro could shoot his father from this distance? Could she even get a clear shot?

“Four hours,” Father finally said. “And if you dare to cross me, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do.”

“Deal.” Yato smirked; his father stepped back and dropped the folder at his feet. Moments later, a car came screeching up to the curb at some hidden signal, and Yato dragged Hiyori back, turning himself toward the bumper.

His father got in, still glaring at him, and then he was gone as suddenly as he’d appeared. Yato dropped the knife and released Hiyori; she immediately turned on him.

“What was that all about? And...who are you?” She rubbed her back as if checking for a wound.

“Hiyori, I’m trying to save your life. Just trust me.” He waited for her to nod, then pulled out the taser and jabbed her in the arm in one swift motion.

Just like the Rounder, she collapsed instantly, her expression still betraying her shock. This time, he caught her in his arms and gently propped her up against the concrete barrier bordering the sidewalk. Anyone who walked by would think him a concerned lover making sure his girlfriend hadn’t fainted from the heat.

Well, they’d be about half right.

 _I’m sorry_ , he thought. He pulled out a vial of fake blood that had been stashed in the back of the lab from some old costume party where he’d tried to make his vampire outfit seem a touch more realistic.

Yato unscrewed the lid and paused, eyes losing focus. There was something wrong. There had to be. Had Yukine grabbed the wrong container? No, this was definitely the right one.

But the lid had been screwed on wrong and all the blood was dried up, and he only had a minute or two before his past self came downstairs.

Hiiro must have dropped a smoke bomb because the surrounding area suddenly filled with a thick, white gas. Passersby screamed and ran, but most importantly he had some time. To think of something, anything.

Yato stared at the knife he had picked back up at some point. He needed blood, and a lot of it, and he was done letting others get hurt on his watch.

The knife blade rested on his forearm. No, not enough. Even if he severed an artery, it’d take too long to produce the amount so viciously burned into his memory not even the weeks of time-leaping could erase it.

Yato turned the knife toward himself, and before he could second-guess anything, drove it into his own stomach. The pain was instantaneous; he cried out and nearly fell over, letting the blood drip to the concrete below. The knife clattered to the ground while Yato doubled over. Already feeling woozy, he staggered, a panicked thought surfacing.

 _It’s not enough._ The blood was falling much too slowly.

He took a breath and jammed his hand into the wound. This time, he couldn’t hold back a scream as the blood poured to the concrete.

“Yato! Yato, are you all right?” It was Hiiro. She ran to his side. “What are you—what is—”

Yato didn’t answer her, instead arranging Hiyori more or less how he remembered finding her, then stepped back to check. It would do.

“We need to get going.” Hiiro tugged at his arm again as the last of the smoke cleared, and this time he didn’t resist, letting her pull him away from the gathering crowd.

He slipped his tracksuit jacket on to cover the bloody wound on his shirt and looked back over his shoulder. As they cleared the crowd, he saw his past self come bounding through the door, shove his way to the front, then recoil.

 _Good luck_ , Yato thought. _You’ll need it._

“That was so reckless!” Hiiro exclaimed as she led him into the radio tower and up the stairs. “You could have died, or—”

“I knew I wouldn’t die,” he mumbled. “Convergence prevents that.”

“You need to go to a hospital as soon as you return, or else you might. Don’t play any more games with time.”

“Believe me, I won’t.”

* * *

They made it back to the time machine somehow, Hiiro muttering under her breath the whole way. Yato couldn’t be bothered to pay attention, not when he felt so tired...if he closed his eyes for longer than a second, he felt like he could just fall asleep.

One more thing to take care of before he did. He set the folder he’d retrieved from Hiyori on the rooftop, flipping through it to make sure. No amount of blinking could clear the black spots starting to crowd his vision, but at last he saw it. The folder contained notes on time travel that would never see the light of day. The pages were annotated all over with little sketches and diagrams, pieces that would eventually lead his father to the time machine he’d sought.

Yato was almost sad to see it go. He lit a match and dropped it onto the folder, staying until the last page had turned to ash. Clearly eager to get going, Hiiro pulled him into the time machine’s cramped interior and fastened his safety straps.

“Yato, I’m probably going to disappear as soon as we arrive. Take care of yourself, okay?” He glanced up at his sister, seeing a tear in her eye. Or was that a trick of the light? The lights really were beautiful….

“I will. Thanks for everything, Hiiro,” he managed.

The time machine landed, depositing Yato on the rooftop. He felt a jolt as it disappeared around him.

He’d made it to the world line he’d named for Hiyori.

Groaning, Yato rolled onto his back, then powered up his phone. He was feeling sleepier by the minute.

The seconds ticked by, and now breathing was becoming painful. Yato risked a glance down to his self-inflicted stab wound, then back up to his phone. He’d always been queasy at the sight of blood.

Slowly, agonizingly, he dialed Yukine and put his phone to his ear. It rang, rang, rang. _Yukine, if you ever pick up your phone in your life, now is the time_.

Finally, he did. “What do you want?” He sounded irritated.

“Yukine...Where are you right now?”

“I’m at Yodobashi again. I thought I told you.”

“Oh...Well...I’ve been stabbed.”

“You _WHAT?!_ ” The voice shrieked right through the speakers, and Yato winced. “Tell me you’re joking. Yato! Where are you right now?! I’m on my way!”

“Top of...the radio tower. But more importantly...I need you to find someone.”

“Save that for later, for fuck’s sake!” Yukine sounded like he was close to tears. “Have you called an ambulance?! I’m hanging up and calling one—”

“I will in a sec. Just...first...find her. Find Iki Hiyori.” The name was hardly an exhale of Yato’s breath as his eyes fluttered shut, then reopened to stare at the hazy sky.

“Find Iki Hiyori, got it. But what about you?!”

Yato tried to answer, but the lull of sleep was tempting him. _Just for a moment_. He closed his eyes, and from a distance he could hear Yukine shouting through the phone, asking him if he was still there, reassuring him he’d be there in a minute, but he had to hang up to call an ambulance.

Yato listened to all of that only distantly, lips curving into a smile as he remembered Hiyori. He hadn’t forgotten her after all, and his message had been passed along.

And as he fell into unconsciousness, he heard Yukine burst through the roof access door.

“Yato! _Yato! Stay with me!_ ”

He tried to speak, to apologize for worrying his friend, but the void welcomed him. He faded away, Yukine’s hand on his a guiding light to lead him back when he was ready.

_I did it._

* * *

At some point, Yato floated back to consciousness. He knew he was in a hospital even before he opened his eyes; that disinfectant stench was unmistakable. He opened his eyes a crack anyway, and immediately shut them. Those fluorescent lights existed to give him a migraine.

“Get me out of here,” he groaned. He heard movement from the other side of the room, and Yukine’s voice a moment later.

“Hey, Yato, are you awake?” A warm hand clutched his.

He opened his eyes again and Yukine’s worried face swam into view. “Hey, kiddo. I’m alive, I guess.”

Yukine let out a sigh. “That’s good. Are you in pain? I can call the nurse.”

Yato tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “I’m fine. I’m so doped up on pain meds I can’t feel much of anything.” He tried to pat Yukine on the head with his free hand, noticing the splinted fingers. “Oh, right. Neat.”

“You were out for so long I was starting to get worried. They told me everything was fine aside from, you know, needing surgery...Yato, we came here in a helicopter! A _helicopter!_ How cool is that?”

“It’s pretty cool.” He tried another smile, and this one felt more genuine.

“They tried to separate us but I grabbed your hand, just like this, and I _refused_ to let go. So they had to let me come too.” Yukine kept chattering on and on about everything that had happened since he’d passed out on the radio tower rooftop, but Yato was only half listening. Mostly he was just relieved to see his friend so chipper, and _alive_. No longer in danger, no longer with the threat of impending death over either of their heads. Speaking of being alive...

“Hey, have you heard from Hiyori?” Yato interrupted. “Is she okay?”

“Who’s Hiyori?” Yukine asked, and for a second Yato’s heart plummeted. “Oh, the girl you wanted me to find? The neuroscientist? She’s alive. I, uh, looked into the hospital records. Turns out three weeks ago she was found lying unconscious in quite a large puddle of blood and brought in. But despite a few bruises she was totally unharmed. Weird, right?” He frowned. “Knowing what I know now...that wasn’t her blood, was it?”

Yato shook his head.

“Yato—” Yukine dropped his voice— “What even happened to you? I told the police you’d gotten mugged, but I don’t think they really believed me.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Yato said, feeling exhaustion creep up on him again. “Have you seen Hiyori?”

“No. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You did all you could.” His eyes closed, and he felt himself drifting off, his friend’s warm hand a small comfort. “Yukine, thank you. I’m so sorry for worrying you. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

Yukine laughed, but there was no heart in it. “All you can do for me at this point is live. Okay?”

“You got it.”

* * *

The unending loop had finally come to a close, and slowly life returned to normal. After a month of shitty hospital food and a dearth of cute nurses, Yato decided he had recovered enough and discharged himself. He tied his hair back in a ponytail, wincing when the fingers on his left hand continued to give him a hard time. Out of all the injuries he had sustained, they were causing the most inconvenience. He headed outside to stretch his legs, taking in the last breath of summer and marveling that he didn’t have to be afraid anymore.

He’d seen it on the news one day—shortly after his escapade, an anonymous inside source had tipped off the authorities and his father was now under investigation, facing multiple murder charges and prison time. The Hiiro of this world line had done her job well. Yato let out a sigh of relief. Everything he’d sacrificed had led up to this. Was it worth it? Only time would tell, and now he had plenty of it.

The loop that had trapped him for so long was folding in on itself and turning to ash, but there was one thing he couldn’t let go of. One name that wouldn’t leave his head.

_Hiyori._

In this world line, they didn’t know each other. In this world line, the mysterious chain of causality that linked them together had not seen fit to cross their paths again.

But she was still out there somewhere.

 _“And Hiyori, I promise you this: I will never,_ ever _forget you.”_

_“I love you.”_

Their final exchange flitted through his head before disappearing into the wind like a butterfly. A wind chime tinkled to his right, and the crosswalk light flashed green.

He stepped into the road, hundreds of other people swarming around him. Akihabara was as busy as it had been on that day, but this time the crowds weren’t thick with murderers and thieves. This time everything was right with the world.

Well, almost.

He saw something out of the corner of his eye. Long brown hair, a cheerful voice. He stopped in his tracks….

When the universe wanted someone dead, it would stop at nothing to make it so.

Likewise, when the universe wanted two people to be together, it would part the seas of time that they shall meet again.

 _Could it be_ —

 _This_ was the choice of the gods.

—he turned, and at the same time, so did she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can find my afterword [here](https://leopah.tumblr.com/post/633142646649520128/mobius-afterword).


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